A Simple Memory II Eternal Reminisence
by Luna Silvereyes
Summary: Iscariot is in shambles thanks to a brand new threat emerging within its depths. Alucard's fledgling Wynter is dragged back into the rising problems, struggling against both her arch rival, Anderson, and dark secrets kept hidden by Wynter's very own sire.
1. Prologue

A Simple Memory— Eternal Reminiscence

Luna Silvereyes

A/N: A sequel to A Simple Memory. I was planning on putting this up a little later, but MarzBarz has been so supportive and patient that I just had to reward that. Thanks so much, MarzBarz! You're awesome! Be forewarned to any who have stumbled on this, this IS A SEQUEL. I won't stop you from reading it, but you WILL be extremely and utterly confused if you don't read the prequel first. If you refuse to heed my warnings, I won't answer any questions about what happened, who was this, who was that, why'd this happen, and so on and so forth. Now, enjoy this rather short prologue.

Prologue

_ She always used to tell me that humans and vampires weren't so different after all. Being able to experience being human, I can't tell you in words how envious I was. The friends I lost, the friends I gained, the conversion of one man's opinion, an unusual relationship, a promised, inevitable ending, all of it a bittersweet memory I cannot let go of, even so many years later. I cherish it all, good and bad alike, as a dear treasure close to my cold heart. Now, as I watch the ground open up to swallow my sorrows and joys alike, I wonder...would my dream ever bear fruit in my lifetime? Was it really possible for vampires and humans to coexist peacefully? Was it possible for a human and a vampire to be friends? Meeting me, you might ask me these very questions of your own free will. Would you ask me if a vampire and a human can live peacefully together? Is such a thing possible? I suppose it is. After all...I did it. _

A/N: I told you it was short, lol. Don't expect me to update for a couple of weeks. I'm leaving town day after tomorrow and likely won't have internet connection where I'm going. If I do, it'll be a miracle.


	2. One

A/N: You know, this story wasn't supposed to be that big of a deal. It was a random thought moment I came up with where I went, "Hey, what would happen if Seras had an older sister?". Yeah. That's where it came from. Anyway, it's 2 in the morning and we got back from Decatur a few hours ago. I figured I'd update and then work on writing some more. I'm up to chapter seven. But I need more reference material. Anderson's accent is going to kill me, I swear. -_-;

One

Seras sat out on the front steps, knees pulled up to her chest as she stared at the orange glow lining the horizon before her across the vast estate of the Hellsing property. One year had passed since Wynter left and things were finally beginning to calm down in England. The Round Table members had managed to brush off the Japanese forces attacking Hellsing as nothing more than a religious cult going to extremes with military equipment. The survivors of the agency, natural and unnatural alike had vanished without a trace in Europe's wild countries. Arakawa had been deported back to Japan for trial by the Japanese government. For Seras, life at Hellsing was back to the usual routine. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. She knew what it was, but she also knew there was nothing she could do about it. Wynter had promised she'd visit, but who knew when that would be? She only assured them she'd return before Walter and Integra died. Alucard didn't seem to notice a difference in his former-apprentice's moods, but Integra did. It was pretty clear; Seras rarely spoke anymore and when she did, her tone was clipped and emotionless. Wynter had left an enormous void behind that affected the young Draculina. Once in a while, Alucard would comment on the situation, saying that to walk the path of the Draculina is a long and difficult road, filled with anguish and despair, loneliness and frustration, hate and anger. It was the path that Wynter chose to walk and still walked to this day. However, Seras wanted to believe that being a Draculina meant much more than what Alucard claimed. Wynter had proven that by herself. Over a hundred years spent in loneliness, Wynter harbored a bitterness and the aura of a troubled and deeply thoughtful individual. She got along all right with humans, but it was clear she felt uncomfortable around them, and so avoided them understandably. Unlike Seras, Wynter could remember nothing of her human life and had spent well over a century and a half existing like this.

Seras gazed up at the sky, sighing. It was quiet right now. Few cases had been reported of supernatural creatures of any kind attacking humans. Alucard was nowhere to be found, possibly off searching for something to ease his boredom. As of late, he'd taken to treasure hunting for one reason or another, often returning with small finds of burlap bags containing anything from old journals to corroded jewelry. One time, he found a seemingly ancient hunting knife and to everyone's shock, presented this as a gift for Seras, saying he figured she might find it interesting. He'd been correct. Seras had spent the next few days gently removing the rust and corrosion from its surface, revealing it to be constructed of rusted silver. It was an intriguing discovery and Walter suggested that its deteriorated exterior probably accounted for why it didn't scorch Alucard and Seras. Its corrosion thus made it possible to be handled by vampires.

But now, Seras really didn't care. She just missed Wynter, that's all.

She felt it then, that pricking feeling in the back of her mind, like a cluster of needles. Alucard was summoning her. This meant that Integra had summoned him. They had a job to do, now.

Integra was looking over a stack of reports sent in by civilians all over the countryside. Sightings of supernatural creatures. In the year since Arakawa's facility had been disbanded permanently, these sightings had become quite frequent. Since less than half accounted for human and vampire skirmishes, Integra had to assume that the older, natural vampires freed alongside the creations were simply passing through populated areas during their nightly travels. Not all vampires were nomadic like Wynter was. Most of these natural vampires probably set root for the day in cemeteries or mausoleums. The younger creations of Arakawa's were probably having difficulties adjusting. Unlike the chipped vampires they were currently dealing with, these vampires could be considered natural creations because they were created directly with the DNA of a single pure vampire, and a powerful one at that. Given a few decades and they'd be old enough and wise enough to avoid human contact.

But for the moment, they were causing trouble whether they wanted to or not and Integra was left to deal with it as she and her ancestors always had.

She glanced up at Alucard and Seras's approach into her office. By this time, Seras had finally learned to warp through solid objects like Alucard, although she occasionally got stuck in the process as her concentration failed and Alucard had to help her out. Now was one of those times. Only her left foot and left half of her body got stuck. She pushed against the wall with her right hand, straining with all her might to get through. Integra sighed.

"Alucard," she said wearily. Alucard shook his head, grabbed Seras's arm and yanked her through into Integra's office. Seras stumbled briefly and then laughed sheepishly, "Sorry," she said, "I guess I still haven't gotten the hang of it yet,"

"You'd better master it, soon, Seras," Integra warned. "But forget that for now. We have a new assignment to take care of,"

"What is it?" Seras asked. Alucard stepped forward and took the paper describing the most recent attacks on civilians in a small town to the north.

"This brings back memories," he said tonelessly, handing Seras the document. Seras scanned over it quickly and frowned, "But this is describing what appears to be natural vampires, Sir Integra. We haven't had any cases concerning them for a while, now,"

"Correct, Seras," Integra said firmly, "And this is what concerns me. Arakawa's agency was revealed to be holding a total of thirty-seven vampires. Of those, eight were naturals and two were originals. A good deal of them have already been eliminated by various hunters over the past few months, the Iscariots included. However, two naturals have been spotted wandering the wild countries of northern Ireland. According to reports, they appear to be gradually moving southward at a steady rate,"

"Um," Seras said, uncertain of herself, "Is there any chance that, well, uh...Wynter is included in these statistics?"

Integra's eyes flickered and she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "There's no way to be sure, Seras," she said, expressionless, "Wynter has been missing for over a year. I'm certain that factions of Arakawa's research team still exist, wanting to prove their leader's ridiculous and farfetched theories. With this in mind, Wynter has likely remained on the run,"

"Oh," Seras mumbled, downcast. She fell silent.

"What of Louis Von Brunswick?" Alucard asked.

"So far, not a word on him. Typical of most originals, he may have gone into hiding for his own protection. Our only news is on the creations and the naturals making their way west and south, toward us,"

"Hm," Alucard muttered, frowning, "Could it be that they're searching out Wynter?"

Integra frowned, glancing at him strangely, "And what does that mean?"

"These created vampires were made with Wynter's genetics," Alucard explained, though Integra already knew, "They may be able to sense her presence and are seeking her out for protection,"

"But who knows if she's even still in Great Britain anymore?" Seras mumbled. "Who knows? Maybe she even managed to leave this country,"

"Highly improbable," Integra cut in, "It's very difficult for a vampire of any caliber to cross large bodies of water such as the ocean. Without a doubt, she remains in Europe."

This did little to perk Seras's mood on the matter, but she forced her feelings back and remained silent.

"So then, Integra," Alucard said craftily, "What should our course of attack be?"

"Nothing," Integra answered plainly, "We wait and see. If we're dealing with natural vampires or originals, our actions should be carefully constructed to fit the caliber of the individual should they prove threatening. Weaker targets will be much simpler,"

She fished through the stack of papers and produced a single sheet of stationary, handing it to Alucard, "These are all the supplies you'll need for this assignment," she said, "And it had better remain at this,"

Alucard sighed in clear disappointment. "Well, I do happen to like trains." he muttered. Seras frowned in confusion as Alucard left the office, mumbling to himself.

"So," Seras said, "It's a scouting trip?"

"Correct, Seras," Integra replied, "If we're dealing with natural vampires this time around, we need to be sure of what we're going up against."

Seras nodded and turned, following Alucard out.

They first had to stop down in the basement to see Walter. Seras was apprehensive about this because her worry for the elderly butler had only gotten worse over the past year. Five months before, Walter had unexpectedly suffered a stroke and was hospitalized for a little over two months. He'd insisted on coming back to work the second he was physically able and hadn't been in the best shape since then. Integra knew better than to try to force him to rest against his will, but she'd worked out a compromise with him. He now spent the daylight hours resting and was allowed to move around during the nighttime hours when things quieted down around the estate. Walter had accepted these terms, much to their relief, but he occasionally underwent bouts of weakness. Seras could sense that even Alucard's anxiety for the old man was growing by the day. There was no telling what the future held for the Angel of Death.

Fortunately, they found him in relatively good spirits downstairs in his workshop, tinkering with some new model gun. He glanced up at their approach, a smile gracing his weathered face.

"Ah, Alucard, Ms. Victoria, perfect timing," he said as cheerfully as ever.

"What have you got there, Walter?" Alucard asked.

"Since I presented Wynter with the miniaturized version of the Jackal, I've been playing around with its design. I do believe that there are great things in store for this particular weapon. Unfortunately, you seem to be content with the Jackal, Wynter's not here anymore and Ms. Victoria is still too inexperienced to handle this new version as of yet," he said sadly.

He handed the test model to Alucard, who braced it up, eying it carefully. "It's rather small, isn't it?" he drawled.

"I never said you had to use it," Walter said curtly. "Besides, it isn't finished yet,"

He took it back, unloaded the magazine and stowed it safely into a velvet lined case on his desk. He closed it, latching it tightly and turned.

"From what I understand, you're to take a train to Bristol to investigate the possible appearances of several natural vampires, is that correct?"

"Precisely," Alucard said, "We have reason to believe that these vampires have slowly been making their way here from Japan following their release from Arakawa's facility. It makes sense,"

"That it does. Very well then," Walter said, turning. He handed them each a fresh magazine of rounds, "I don't expect you to need these," he said, "However, try to keep the damage to a minimum," Walter advised, "Ordinarily, we'd send professional scouts on a mission of this magnitude, but because we're possibly dealing with naturals, we're going on the safe side this time around. Please try not to botch this up," Walter warned wearily. Seras understood his caution. Alucard got more out of control and more conspicuous with each passing day. It was likely he'd break through the Cromwell Seal long before Integra passed away. The Cromwell Seal was weakening and Alucard would soon be free once again.

/ooo/

Alucard claimed to like trains, but he seemed extremely agitated at the station. Seras had spent most of her life riding trains and was nearly desensitized to the sights, sounds and now, with her vampiric abilities, smells that came with them. In her wildest dreams, she'd never have believed that smoke could smell so incredibly foul, even miles away from the engine itself. This was another thing that bothered Alucard. To Seras's shock, he'd actually gone into a coughing fit on the platform, not stopping for several minutes. By the time he'd finally ceased, he was nearly fit to be tied. Seras sighed.

"Master, I thought you liked trains," she muttered.

"I do. I'm not incredibly fond of the smoke, however," Alucard growled, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat.

"But we don't even need to breathe!" Seras exclaimed, earning confused stares from passerby around her. She lowered her voice, "So what's the matter?"

"Seras, you aren't telling me you haven't noticed that we do however need to inhale in order to speak, correct?" Alucard answered, barely keeping his voice contained. Seras blinked, indeed, having forgotten that particular factoid. Yes, it was true that they no longer required air as a necessity, but in order to talk, they needed air in their lungs to function the vocal cords as they had when they were humans. Seras hummed and glanced over at the train several meters away, waiting to leave the station.

Finally, the whistle sounded, announcing it was time to board. Seras tugged at the hem of her jacket and sighed. Integra had given her some of her old clothes to wear so she wouldn't be so conspicuous. They consisted of a white blouse with a heavy cream-colored overcoat and matching pants. Seras figured that this must have been the period in Integra's life when she abandoned feminine apparel for whatever reason. Seras had also taken along her father's old cap, one of the few things she had remaining of him. Except for her eyes, she appeared human. Alucard had gone exactly the same way he always looked, the same red Victorian style coat and red cravat, charcoal suit and riding boots. Seras never asked why his sense of fashion was so outdated. She doubted he'd give her a worthwhile answer as it was.

They boarded the train, taking their seats. Alucard still appeared out of sorts, but he seemed in much better spirits now that they'd left the smoky station.

"Master, I take it you don't get out much," Seras ventured. Alucard threw her a curious glance, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap, "And what makes you say that?"

"You just really seem to dislike the human populace, that's all," Seras said. He scrutinized her like a hawk, his eyes barely visible behind his glasses, "I don't dislike the human populace, Seras," he said brusquely, "I dislike their ever-changing environment."

He closed his eyes, content to nod off until the train started. Seras knew he wasn't really asleep. He never completely relaxed anywhere except for his chambers deep within Hellsing, the one place which guaranteed him safety. Once he fell asleep there, it was extremely difficult to wake him and nothing short of dumping cold water on him did the trick, a feat which only Integra was brave enough to accomplish if absolutely necessary Seras sighed and leaned back in her seat, watching him and reliving the past two years she'd spent as his apprentice. She was still his apprentice, but she was no longer the weak little police-girl Alucard had turned into a vampire. She still had a long way to go before she was ready to become true Nosferatu like Alucard, but in the very least, he'd stopped calling her Police-Girl for the most part. He usually referred to her by her given name, except when he was feeling quirky, which happened somewhat more commonly than she would have liked these days. Seras still didn't have him entirely figured out. One minute, he could be sarcastic, verbal, and cheerful and the next, morose, sadistic, and irritable.

Seras jumped as the train gave a sharp jolt. They were getting ready to leave the station. It was about a two-hour ride to Bristol. Seras was actually surprised Alucard had agreed to go along with this idea, whether he liked trains or not. He was perfectly capable of flying there himself in half that time as a bat or fog, and leaving Seras to suffer through the train ride by her lonesome. In fact, one of the reasons she was going with him was only to help improve his disguise as a human by posing as his daughter, despite the fact that they looked nothing at all alike. If Wynter had still been around, she would have been much better suited to the job, in more ways than one.

The train pulled out of the station, gathering speed as it sped along the tracks. Seras leaned on her elbow against the window, gazing out at the rolling landscape. She watched the distant Tower of London fading away into the gloomy fog blanketing the city.

"What are you thinking about?"

Seras jumped and whirled to Alucard. He had his chin braced against his hand, leaning on it and watching her, smiling slightly. Seras frowned. "Why are you asking? All you have to do is probe my thoughts," she grumbled. Alucard chuckled mirthfully, "Integra is definitely rubbing off on you," he said, "You're becoming more like her every day,"

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes and no," Alucard replied, "I'm willing to bet you were thinking about Wynter,"

Seras smirked, "Yes and no, master," she taunted.

"Touche," Alucard replied, baring his fangs, "Fine then, Police-girl, keep your secrets. It's not like it matters to me,"

"You're weird, master. I think you've spent one too many years in Hellsing's basement," Seras grumbled.

"When you're as old as I am, boredom is a constant companion, Seras," Alucard said.

"That reminds me, just how old are you, anyway?" Seras asked.

"Why should I tell you that? Time has no meaning for our kind. I only recall my age because it gives me something to reflect on. You'll probably end up forgetting your age after a few decades. It's normal,"

"I won't forget my age, master," Seras said irritably, settling back in her seat and leaning her arm on the windowpane, "I'm never going to forget,"

"Helena once said the same thing to me," Alucard said in mention of the child-like vampire occupying an abandoned office building in the heart of London, "And not thirty years later, it completely slipped her mind,"

This depressed Seras somewhat and Alucard noticed, tilting his head up from beneath the brim of his hat. He frowned and shrugged, "However, if you prefer to recall such a human trait, despite your clear lack of humanity, far be it from me to interfere, Police-girl," he said disinterestedly. Seras blinked at him in surprise. Then, she hummed and sat back, gazing out the window, watching the sea slowly slip from view along the grassy knolls. Soon, it was out of sight completely and something stirred within her at this thought. It was, to her chagrin, a feeling of relief. Vampires were naturally repelled by the sea, so it was no wonder she'd be relieved to escape from it. This made her wonder at the fierce determination exhibited by these vampires appearing in Great Britain. Their desire to seek protection must have been strong enough to overcome any misgivings they might have at crossing the sea in whatever way they were able to.

"Master," Seras said, "If I ask you something, will you give me an honest answer?"

"It depends on the question," Alucard replied. Seras rolled her eyes and continued, "It's very difficult for vampires to cross the sea," she pointed out. Alucard chuckled, "That's true, but that's not a question," he said.

"My question is this; how is it possible for a vampire to cross water?" Seras asked.

"First things first, Police-girl, the water must be flowing in a general direction at a steady rate in order for the crossing to be problematic. We are bound to the earth as walking dead, so water is our natural enemy," Alucard explained, "It can corrode us, threaten to devour us alive should we linger within its depths for too long. It's power is strong enough to pull us, hence the reason we are unable to cross flowing water. The powerful currents act to slowly disintegrate our bodies a little at a time until nothing remains. In order for a vampire to cross such a deadly adversary, human intervention is required,"

"What do you mean?"

"A metal ship, a life raft constructed of durable wood, even a wooden bridge lined with soil would do the trick," Alucard said with a shrug, "If it was made by humans, it's relatively safe for vampiric creatures to use. There are many effective ways these days, but there is a great lack of vampires willing to try them," he said, smirking.

"So I'm guessing you were one of the few brave enough to give it a try," Seras muttered.

"That's correct, Police-girl. However, It's been decades since I crossed over from the mainland to take up residence with the Hellsing family in England. The journey was long and arduous, but I made it. That reminds me," he mumbled, folding his arms pensively, "I wonder if that little place I had my eye on is still there..."

He fell silent, lost in thought, presumably about something in his cloudy past. Seras watched him for a few moments.

"Why do you ask?" Alucard said suddenly, "Are you planning on leaving?"

"No, no!" Seras said immediately, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise!"

Alucard smirked, "You make it seem as though I'd be sad if you left," he said mockingly. Seras blinked and then scowled, fuming, "Jeez, it's nice to know how much you care, master," she growled.

"It should be, because I _would_ miss you," Alucard said pleasantly. Here, Seras started in surprise. Was he serious?

"You...you would?" she said.

"Without a doubt. It's not everyday you meet such a sad vampire such as you. You're an endless source of entertainment, Police-girl," he said with a leer. Seras's eyebrow twitched and she lashed to her right, snatching a magazine out of the seat pocket beside her and whipping it at him in anger. He allowed himself to be hit, snickering madly as it bounced off his hat and into the seat beside him. Seras snarled under her breath, "You're mean," she growled.

"Now, now, mind your behavior, my daughter," Alucard chuckled as the conductor came around to take their tickets. Alucard handed their passes to him, he stamped them and gave them back and moved on, casting suspicious glances at them as he went, "You must act like the proper young lady I raised you to be,"

Seras snorted, "Oh sure, you're so right, _dad_," she hissed at him, "I'll try to remember that the next time I kill someone on your orders,"

"Good girl," Alucard said, pushing his luck big time, "Keep up the good behavior and I'll buy you a souvenir on the way home,"

"Yeah, knowing you, master, it'll be a shrunken head," Seras grumbled. She sighed. Looking at them from a human's point of view, you'd never believe they weren't really father and daughter from the way they acted. Heck, you'd never believe they were vampire sire and fledgling on a scouting assignment for a secret sect of hunters serving Her Majesty, the queen. Well, technically, she supposed, he was her undead father. After all, she'd died as a human and been reborn as a vampire thanks to Alucard. But after living with him for two years, she couldn't imagine a life without his constant teasing. She supposed it was his way of showing that he really did in fact care about her. She couldn't think of anything else. After all, he'd probably rather allow the Paladin Anderson to kill him before he'd openly admit it.

Seras yawned. The coat and cap protected her from the sun for the most part, but being nocturnal presented daylight work as a problem. She always got drowsy during the day. But being the former police officer that she was, Seras couldn't allow herself to fall asleep and risk her guard on the train.

"Get some sleep," Alucard said suddenly. Seras rubbed her eyes, shaking her head. "I can't do that," she said, barely suppressing a yawn, "We'll be there in two hours. I have to stay alert,"

"If you're tired during the job, you'll have sloppy results," Alucard admonished firmly, "I'm your master, Police-girl, so you'll do as I say. Get some sleep,"

"But, master—" Seras protested. But a fierce glare from Alucard silenced any further complaints. Seras sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes. She could feel him watching her.

Gradually, however, she was grateful for it. The gentle hypnotic rhythm of the train rumbling along the tracks and the warm air inside the car both worked in unison to soon lull her into a peaceful sleep.

Alucard finally sensed her drifting off and glanced out the window, watching the countryside fly by. He knew she was tired; he was too. But she needed the rest more than he did. After all, even two years later, it was hard to change a time clock your body had lived by its whole life. He was long, long since used to it. He had to be.

It was then that he began to wonder what Wynter was up to these days. Saying goodbye to her hadn't been easy on Seras. But one had to wonder what sometimes went through that vampire's brain on occasion. After all, while Wynter never served humans directly as he did, she certainly couldn't stay away from them. She'd admitted to him that she'd fallen in love with a human over seventy years ago. He smirked.

"Huh. I guess we aren't so different, are we, Wynter?" he mumbled.

A/N: Ideas are flooding in for this story! Faster than I can keep up with them! In fact, I like it so much, that I want to incorporate similar plots to my own novel! That would be so cool! Heh, no wonder I can never finish anything. I'll bet I'm a reincarnation of Alexandre Dumas. He had to hire people to help him because he couldn't keep track of his own ideas, lol. Critics called them a "Fiction Factory", but so what? I'm the same way. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.


	3. Two

A/N: Chapter two, ready to go! I'm up to chapter nine on this story, already a hundred and twenty pages in! Not bad, not bad at all! Oh, and my other story, Of Promises and Perseverance, I keep running into roadblocks. Still working on that. If any of you are reading this, please be patient with me. It's coming along slowly but surely.

Two

Alucard could only watch in stoic amazement as people crowded around Seras trying to wake her up. She'd been flailing about and dreaming some kind of nonsense for the entire two hours they'd been on the train. Alucard was sure he caught the name of her Harkonnen in there someplace. One woman glanced at him in total fear, "Aren't you traveling with her? Can't you do something?"

"No," he said disinterestedly, "This is perfectly normal for her,"

The woman blanched visibly and shook her head.

Seras chose that moment to bolt awake, gasping. She glanced blearily at the crowd of people surrounding her and then giggled sheepishly, "Sorry, I'm a bit of restless sleeper," she explained lamely. The crowd dispersed, mumbling suspiciously.

Alucard sighed and stood up, "You know, Police-girl, you should be aware that you talk in your sleep," he said.

"Oh really? Now what gave you that idea?" Seras growled at him. She got to her feet and stretched, sighing, "Ugh. But I feel pretty rested, now. I'm ready to go scouting," she said cheerfully.

Outside the train, it was frigid and Seras felt a little out of place because people around her were shivering from the cold and she felt nothing whatsoever. It didn't seem to be bothering Alucard, either.

Bristol was a port town, accepting ships carrying cargo from all over the world. Their station was right by the water and Seras breathed deeply, enjoying the salt air. She moaned suddenly and sighed sadly. Alucard noticed and glanced at her curiously, "What's the matter?"

"Dad used to take me to Bristol when I was a kid," she said, "We'd always sit by the water and eat fish and chips. I can't do that anymore. Master, why can't I eat human food anymore?" Seras asked dejectedly.

"It's not that you can't," Alucard said, "It's that your body wouldn't accept it. Humans could consume blood if they chose to, but they're unable to digest it properly. For us, it's the exact opposite. You'd only serve to make yourself sick,"

"Oh," Seras mumbled, surprised that he'd given her a believable answer.

They'd be in Bristol for a couple of days, scouting for any sign of natural vampires preying on the innocent masses. Although it was unnecessary, Alucard used money given them by Integra to rent a hotel room to appear more human. In actuality, Seras would spend the daylight hours asleep while Alucard prowled around the city and they'd trade places come nightfall. Seras wasn't incredibly thrilled about wandering the city alone at night, but she didn't have much choice in the matter. They'd been ordered to simply gather information on possible natural vampires skulking through the city and Seras looked innocent enough not to draw attention to herself. Alucard was a bit of a different matter.

"How are you going to learn anything if you scare everyone off?" Seras demanded. Alucard smirked, tipping his hat back. "I can be rather charming when I try," he said.

"You're about as charming as a sea sponge, master," Seras muttered. Alucard lightly clapped her on the head in much the same way a father would do to a daughter, "I reiterate, Police-girl. I said _when I try_. I don't bother trying around you because my efforts would be wasted,"

Seras slapped his hand away and glared, "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, master," she growled. She stomped off down the street and Alucard chuckled, watching her.

"She's so fun to mess with," he said fondly.

/ooo/

Seras flopped down on her back on the bed in the room and sighed wearily, "I'm dead tired," she moaned, staring up at the ceiling. Alucard was busy fussing with the blinds. They wouldn't open. She glanced over at him curiously.

"Humans get lazier with their inventions; they don't work," he growled, "Fifty years ago, they were simple curtains."

"They're Venetian blinds, master, you have to tug on that cord," Seras explained. Alucard did so, but the bar connected to the hinges slid out suddenly and he ended up pulling the entire frame down on top of himself. He growled irritably and untangled himself from the mess of blinds. Seras giggled and sat up, watching him bemusedly. He threw an irritated glare at his apprentice, "Feel free to step in anytime, Police-girl," he grumbled.

"Oh no, I'd hate to interrupt your fun there, master. I could have sworn you did that on purpose,"

Alucard sighed and finally freed himself from the blinds, "I've never dealt with this kind before," he said, throwing them on the table. Seras tilted her head, "Well, they don't usually come down like that. I guess they're cheap,"

"It isn't like it matters now," he said, gesturing vaguely at them. Seras sighed, her shoulders sagging, "Great. Another expense," she muttered. She toppled back down and sighed, "I'm exhausted. I'm going to sleep," she mumbled. "Have fun wandering, master,"

She was asleep in seconds. Alucard knew from experience how difficult she was to wake up once she actually got to sleep. That and she tended to have weird nightmares. He'd had some weird ones himself, but from the way she talked in her sleep, hers seemingly took the cake.

He strode past, making his way to the door and leaving silently.

/ooo/

Alucard's search through Bristol during the day turned up nothing. The most he got was a superstitious sailor who threw a tin can at him yelling some curse to ward off evil in a dead language. To Seras's disturbed bewilderment, Alucard had taken the can back with him.

"Why?" was her exact wording when he threw it on the table where it rolled erratically before slowing to a stop. He grinned, "Because I felt like it," he answered smugly.

Seras was fairly certain her master wasn't quite as sane as he pretended to be. The expression on her face seemed to broadcast her thoughts. Alucard picked up the can and hurled it out the window where it unsurprisingly landed perfectly in a trash can on the sidewalk below.

"Better?" he asked, though he really couldn't have cared about her opinion.

"Yes," Seras growled, under the same impression. She sighed and stood up, moving to the window and looking out, "I'm guessing it's almost my turn, then," she said.

"That's right. But I'm going out with you, this time." Alucard said seriously. Seras blanched and gulped, "W-Why? Did you sense something out there?" she asked.

"No, I'm just not tired," he answered plainly. Seras knocked her forehead against the wall, groaning.

The sun was going down over the water. Alucard stood by the window, watching it through his sunglasses. From beneath the brim of his hat, they reflected the light, taking on an eerie glow in the low light in the room. Seras grimaced.

"Master, did anyone ever tell you how creepy you are?" she asked wryly. He grinned, only adding to the unpleasantness, "Perhaps once or twice," he said. Seras sighed.

They finally went outside once the sun had fully set. Seras took a deep, albeit unnecessary breath of cool air and stretched. "Feels good out here," she said.

"Keep your focus, Seras," Alucard said, being totally serious. Seras didn't say anything in retort. She was just glad he'd used her name this time.

"So what are we looking for again?" Seras asked.

"Do you take anything in? Honestly, you're just like Integra used to be,"

"Huh?" Seras exclaimed. Alucard adjusted his glasses. "Integra used to have the shortest attention span you can imagine, Seras. It took quite a bit of work on her part to correct that,"

"And when was this?" Seras asked cautiously. Alucard frowned, humming. "I'd have to say around age five or six," he said.

"Master, that's just creepy," Seras complained. Alucard sighed heavily. "I kept an eye on her through the mirrors in the house. Arthur certainly had plenty of them for that purpose, after all. The old fool," he said fondly.

"Any way you look at it, it sounds wrong!"

"You've got quite an odd perspective, Police-girl," Alucard said irritably, "I happen to consider myself a proper gentleman,"

"When you're not being a pain in the neck," Seras growled. Alucard started cackling suddenly and Seras realized her mistake, slapping a hand over her eyes and moaning, "Damn it, I walked right into that one!" she yelled.

"You certainly did," Alucard chimed. He frowned suddenly, all business, "Lets' get to work, now. We only have to gather information on vampire activities here and I believe Integra was serious with the punishment should we do anything else,"

"What did she threaten you with this time?" Seras mumbled. The last time, she'd forbidden him any blood for a month. Alucard had gotten a little quirky and moody from this and resorted to playing pranks on the entire estate. These pranks ranged from dying the water supply green to switching out all the locks on the estate while Integra and Walter were away and locking them outside the mansion. Walter had personally recommended to Integra not to threaten Alucard with this punishment again, lest he do something worse.

"Imprisonment in the dungeons for a year," he answered nonchalantly.

"Yeesh," Seras shuddered, "That's creepy,"

"It's better than twenty years, Seras," he said wearily. Seras nodded, "That's true," she said. Alucard grinned, "Besides, she'd only have eventually let me out after about six months. That's how it usually went,"

"You mean it's happened before?" Seras exclaimed. But Alucard didn't answer. He was busy staring off down the street at a small group of drunkards leaving a tavern.

"Best to steer clear of that bunch," he said, "We're trying to avoid trouble this time,"

He didn't sound all that pleased as he gave her a gentle shove to the opposite side of the street. Seras kept a wary eye on the group as they passed them, but they made no movements or calls to them as they continued down the street.

"Master, with these vampires roaming around, is it safe for them to be out?" she asked.

"Don't meddle in the affairs of humans too much, Seras," he warned, "If they're smart, they'll stay off the streets at night. Besides, I've seen firsthand that humans are often more dangerous than vampires are,"

"What do you mean?" Seras asked, remembering the appearances of the chipped vampires.

"True vampires like you and I are naturally solitary creatures, preferring to keep to ourselves. When one is a vampire, one doesn't broadcast it to the world. Unnatural vampires are the ones to be feared, the ones created by humans," he said morbidly, "They carry no vampiric morals or pride to speak of and they operate with a sadistic and unknowable logic understood only by them. They are nothing like us, Seras. Or like Wynter,"

Seras was surprised. Alucard rarely spoke of Wynter of his own will. Even after meeting her again after so long, he'd failed two more times to protect her from Arakawa. She'd even gotten herself blown to pieces and still managed to survive. But she remained bound to Alucard out of choice, saying she didn't believe survival for her was possible any other way.

"My point," Alucard continued, "Humans fight amongst themselves, just like every other creature occupying this world. Vampires are no different. The difference is that squabbles amongst true vampires are rare and not usually fatal. I should know, after all I've participated in enough of them," he said irritably.

"Then why do you kill naturals?" Seras asked.

"Because I'm told to. If I said that, would it satisfy your curiosity, Seras? Then what if I told you 'because I have to'?"

Seras didn't reply. Alucard continued, "Have you noticed yet Seras, that the majority of vampires hunted by Hellsing are rowdy, uncontrollable show-offs with no self-control?"

Seras frowned. She had noticed that. She'd long since seen that very few vampires that the organization went up against were incredibly strong. That priest that had nearly killed her for example was one of them, the monster that invaded the village of Cheddar. He'd been a natural vampire. But from that, she'd never actually fought a true vampire before. Seras voiced this thought to Alucard, who nodded knowingly, "That's true," he said, "And the reason behind it is ridiculously simple, Police-girl. Natural vampires take great measures to hide themselves from humans. In truth, we dislike fighting and the older ones have managed to grow old because they were smart and avoided humans whenever possible. This is what makes them powerful. It isn't their raw power in of itself that does it; it's their intelligence, years of experience acquired from a difficult lifestyle,"

"But master, you enjoy fighting," Seras said.

"That I do. But I get bored rather easily, so it's a natural response, Police-girl," he said. Seras sighed, shaking her head, "You certainly haven't changed much," she said.

They fell silent and Seras cast her eyes around the deadened street. She could hear the waves beating off the hulls of the ships docked nearby. The smell of salt was potent. The stillness of Bristol at night was very hypnotic and if she were human, she might have found herself being lulled into a gentle, inviting sleep. Since becoming a vampire, she'd grown used to her coffin back at the estate. Now, she couldn't imagine sleeping peacefully anywhere else. It was weird. Even as a vampire, she was still able to adapt so readily, just like she had as a human. It quite possibly proved that humans and vampires weren't so different after all.

Seras screeched to a stop suddenly when Alucard thrust his arm out in front of her, halting her. She was about to protest when she caught it; a whiff of fresh blood wafting up the street. Her heart began to pound.

"You smell it," he stated, rather than asked.

"Yes," she replied, "It's very strong and there's a lot of it,"

Alucard grinned, "It seems our rival decided to come to us," he said. He whirled and scurried up the side of the building closest to them, perching on the roof to get a better look around. Seras knew he was getting ready to fight. She knew that despite Integra's orders, it would come to this. Alucard lived for battle against strong opponents. If the chance came along to fight such an opponent on any mission, he'd take it without hesitation.

Seras jumped as something huge and black shot out of the alleyway a few blocks down, smashing into the opposite building and falling to the ground limply. It got to its feet and Seras could see that it was either a ghoul or a vampire. She hoped it was a ghoul. Despite her growing wisdom as a child of the darkness, she wasn't too keen on facing her own kind until she had at least a decade under her belt. She pulled her handgun out of her coat pocket and aimed, firing off three shots. Fortunately, Walter had designed silencers for their weapons, which muffled the explosions greatly. The less attention they drew during the battle, the better.

None of the bullets found their mark, but one grazed the creature's shoulder. Seras knew then by how it reacted, turning to her and bearing a set of sharp fangs, that it was indeed a vampire.

_**Police-girl! This is your chance to face a true creature of the night! **_

__Seras blanched, shaking hands clutching the gun desperately, "But master! I've never faced a natural vampire head on before!" she exclaimed as the creature drew nearer, studying her before striking. Yeah, this was definitely a vampire. No ghoul ever took the time to study an opponent.

_**Stop whining! Consider this a learning experience. Besides, he isn't the only vampire in Bristol. I sense yet one more heading this way. Take care of the straggler. This one coming **__**is much more powerful! **_

__Seras swallowed nervously as Alucard took off across the rooftops. Seras focused on the monster before her. He tilted his head curiously.

"You're a natural vampire, aren't you?" he asked in a raspy voice. He stood in the shadows of the building, his features obscured. Already his wound on his shoulder was closing. Seras took a cautious step forward, trying to get a better feel for her opponent, her gun still raised.

"Yes," she said stiffly, "And are you the same?"

His red eyes flickered in the darkness and he looked slightly to the side, as though pondering something, "In a sense, I suppose," he said.

Seras frowned, her finger bracing on the trigger, "Are you one of those chipped Freaks?" she asked sourly. His eyes blazed and before she could react, he'd pinned her to the wall of the house behind her, "Don't you dare insult me like that!" he snarled, his fingers wrapping around her throat.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm and surprise. Instantly, he released her and she slid to the ground, coughing.

"Y-You!" he stammered, "It's the same! The very same! My God, it is! It is! It is!" he chirped like a bird, backing away from her with an expression of both awe and horror. In the moonlight, she could see that he was only a young boy, or at least he appeared to be. She estimated his age at twelve or thirteen at his turning. His platinum blond hair shone in the moonlight, a sharp contrast to his eyes.

"It's the same! The same! The same!" he kept whispering. Seras couldn't tell if he was terrified or jovial at whatever the similarity was. She stood up, watching him cautiously, "Tell me, what is the same? What do you mean?" she demanded.

"The same! The same!"

"What's the same? Tell me, what is the same?" Seras exclaimed, approaching him and grasping his shoulders, shaking him lightly to bring him back to his senses. He stopped yelling and his eyes fixed on her madly. He suddenly appeared terrified and before she could react, his fingers latched onto her clothing, his pleading eyes boring into hers, "Please! Tell me! Where can I find God? Tell me, where I can I find God!"

Seras's confusion level rose and she gently took his hands, shaking her head, "I'm afraid that I don't understand," she said, "What do you mean by 'God'?"

"You smell like God! Where is God? Please, tell me!"

"I smell like...? What?" Seras muttered.

"Well," said a new, albeit familiar voice, "What did you find instead, Police-girl?"

Alucard had lost sight of his target and returned, irritated and bereft. He approached with the Casull in hand, eying the young vampire clinging to Seras and staring up at him in complete horror. Seras looked up at Alucard, shrugging, "I can't get a decent explanation out of him," she said, "But he keeps saying that I smell like 'God'."

Alucard peered down at the boy over his glasses lenses. "That's an interesting compliment," he said.

"Master, this is serious," Seras grumbled. How could he possibly joke at a time like this?

The boy froze suddenly, scenting the air. He raised a shaking finger at Alucard, "Y-You smell like God, too!" he said.

"I certainly wasn't expecting that," Alucard said, dumbfounded, "Tell me, what do you mean when you say we both smell like 'God'?" he asked.

"You must know where God is! Please! I must find God! Only God can save us!"

Seras did a double take in surprise, "Wait, us? Who's us?" she asked.

But the boy started shaking in fear, whimpering and clinging to Seras. Alucard sighed heavily, "He's not a natural vampire, but he was changed far too early," he said disdainfully.

"What do you mean by that?" Seras asked, stroking the boy's hair as he started sobbing.

"It's never a good idea to turn youngsters into vampires. It takes them much longer to adapt to their new lifestyles, being forced to give up their parents and loved ones with no warning," he said, "Most never make it. They try to return to their families and end up slaughtered. Aside from that, he isn't natural, but he isn't chipped, either,"

"Yeah," Seras agreed, "I can feel that. But if he's neither, what is he, then?"

Alucard didn't answer. He had no time. Instead, he quickly whirled and fired off a shot down the street, striking something as it slithered out of the alley. Whatever it was gave an ear-splitting screech as it exploded outward and then silently back into the darkness. Seras gasped and reflexively hugged the child vampire close as though to protect him. Alucard stepped forward as whatever it was emerged into the moonlight, face obscured by some kind of mask, short black hair fluttering in the breeze beneath a large piece of cloth tied about its head. It wore a tan colored trench coat over faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

"Well, you finally returned, have you?" Alucard said to the thing. Seras figured that this must have been the creature Alucard had been chasing.

"_I can't have you thinking I'm a coward, now,_" it said, its voice muffled through the mask. Seras strained to see any sort of detail about the creature's face, but was unable to see a thing. It backed up slightly, preparing for Alucard's attack. Alucard grinned almost sadistically, "Well, this is something. I can tell you'll be quite the opponent. Try not to disappoint me."

He raised his hands, eyes narrowed, "Releasing control art restriction systems to level 4...situation B, release level 3!"

The creature before him started to laugh insanely, "_Is that all I'm worth? Levels 3 and 4? How pathetic! You have no trust in me whatsoever!_"

Seras knew what the levels allowed, now. Level 5 allowed Alucard to create illusions and move at warp speed to confound his enemies, as well as travel undetected as fog or a bat, but that was about it. Level 4 and level 3 both allowed him usage of his various familiars, but only to the extent of his body's capacity for them, meaning that he could only transform a small portion of himself at these levels. Level 2 allowed for a combination of the aforementioned skills, but in a low enough dose that it could be regulated simply. Level 1 was a near absence of all control and restraint, allowing total freedom in every aspect. Seras had yet to see if there was a level 0 at all. If there was, she had no idea what it was for.

In this case, only Alucard's right arm began to morph and twist into the black shadow matter creating the animated head of Baskerville, the black hound. Its red eyes glowed in the darkness, eying the new creature hungrily as it gnashed its teeth together. The other vampire sighed, shaking its head, "_Really, I shouldn't get my hopes up,_" it said. Baskerville lunged with a snarl and the vampire ducked out of the way, leaping up against the wall and vaulting up onto the roof. When Baskerville charged forward again, the opponent flipped into the air, toppled to the ground, landing cat-like and bounded off to the opposite side of the street with the demonic hell-hound in hot pursuit. Alucard sighed, "So far, you're rather boring. Can't you give me a bit more fun?"

"_Only when you take me seriously,_" the vampire retorted. However, he seemed to take on Alucard's request as his hands began to turn jet black, deforming and molding into a slender black rod that detached itself from the body of the vampire. He leaped off the roof in a movement so fast, Seras had difficulty following. The vampire attacked Alucard from above, slicing viciously down at him with the shadow matter spear that had formed. Baskerville intercepted the blow by snatching the rod in between its teeth and wrenching its neck around, flipping the vampire to the ground with a sharp thud. Seemingly unfazed, he got to his feet, chuckling, "_That was good,_" he said.

"I have to say, you're pretty fast," Alucard said as Baskerville spit the spear out. Seras watched in amazement as the other vampire's skin began to turn jet black once again, the black fading from the hair visible beneath the cloth. As she watched, it began to turn a faded silver. The creature's hands elongated into sharp claws flexing in and out in anticipation.

"_So are you. Now, if you don't mind, how about we get serious?_"

"I was about to suggest that very same thing," Alucard smirked. The ground around them began to swirl in erratic eddies and Seras knew he was creating some kind of illusion. That knowledge in itself made it safe for Seras to be there, because it was all just a simple mind trick. If he was able to fool the vampire, he had won the duel before it really even started. But if the vampire caught into the trick, then Alucard lost his ace for that hand.

Unfortunately, the vampire seemed to know that the swirling quicksand like matter at his feet was simply an illusion. But for some strange reason, he allowed himself to begin sinking. Alucard frowned at this and took a few steps back. "What are you doing?" he asked, "Don't tell me you're giving up already,"

But the vampire smirked and sighed, "_You know,_" he said through the mask, "_I had hoped you'd finally take me seriously by the time we finally met again. I don't know whether to be happy or upset at how little you change,_"

There was a sharp snap and a rush of wind. A heavy gale whipped up around them, latching onto the vampire and dragging him up and out of the fake quicksand mind trick, the funnel of wind widening until it surrounded Alucard completely in the inner circle. Alucard held onto his hat as he watched the vampire unfold a pair of jet black, feathery wings, the piece of cloth flying free from the creature's face as a torrent of long, wavy black hair billowed free into the cascading winds. The vampire reached up and removed the mask, revealing blazing red eyes and a triumphant grin.

Seras gasped sharply, nearly dropping the vampiric boy she still held, "Wynter!" she exclaimed. Alucard stared in a combination of bewilderment and triumph as the wind tunnel began to die down slowly as Wynter gently flexed her wings in and out, sighing. "That was fun, but I'm disappointed, master," she said quietly, "You still won't take me seriously, will you?"

"Not until you've improved some more. Now, tell me, what are you doing in Bristol?" Alucard asked her.

"Apparently, the same as you. Hunting," she said slyly.

"God!"

All three of them turned sharply at the boy still clinging to Seras, eyes wide in fear and admiration as he gazed up at Wynter, "God! It's God!" he cried. Alucard frowned and slowly moved his gaze to his first and former apprentice. Her face held no expression, no regard for the boy. She stared right through him, coldly.

The boy shivered and struggled to stand, gazing at her in adoration, "God!" he said again, reaching feebly toward her. As Alucard and Seras watched, she gently reached out and took his hand, allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

"Wynter," Seras said quietly, "What's...going on?"

A/N: Yay! Wynter's back! I wanted to bring her back so badly! She's one of my all-time favorite creations now! Ranks up there with Sonja and Saeka! Okay, drop me a review if you feel like it. Remember, a good critique and review does wonders for the author's psyche. It's a proven fact that we perform better when we're told that the story is being read. ^_^ After all, up to a certain point, imagination just doesn't cut it.


	4. Three

A/N: This is a bit of a psychological chapter. Nothing fancy here. I drop a lot of hints about other things, though, so keep an eye out for them. Oh, and thanks to everyone reading my story. I'm so thrilled that people are enjoying it. I'm having so much fun writing it, but like I've said before, reviews keep me going, even if they're flamers. Good or bad, reviews help me improve, so praise, flame, or blah, do whatever if you feel like it.

Three

Wynter pulled the covers on the bed up over the sleeping boy and sat down beside him, turning to the other two vampire standing a few feet away by the window, watching her. She sighed, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear, her eyes blazing in the darkness.

"I guess you'll want to know what I've been up to over the past year," she stated.

"That goes without saying," Alucard replied, "Can you explain him?"

Wynter shrugged, "He follows me from time to time. His name is Simon."

"But what is he?" Seras asked, "He doesn't seem like one of us,"

"That's because he isn't." Wynter said simply and bluntly, "He's one of Arakawa's survivors. He was created from me and from this, he refers to me as either 'mother' or 'God', depending on his mood from what I can tell,"

Alucard strode forward and peered down at the boy, sleeping fitfully and muttering quietly. Wynter let out a low growl in her throat and Alucard stepped back, respecting her boundaries. "I see you're quite protective of him," he smirked.

"I have to be, even from you, master. Simon was among the lucky ones. There are several survivors wandering the city right now. I've been tracking them down and I plan to gather them into a group at some point, that is, if I can win their trust,"

"So," Seras said, "Wynter, how have you been doing?"

Wynter looked up and smiled at her 'sister'. They hadn't met in over a year, not since Wynter left Hellsing after Arakawa's defeat. She and any survivors of her cruelty were free to roam the world and Wynter had decided to take full advantage of this. She'd departed with a brooch bearing Hellsing's coat of arms and a smaller model of Alucard's Jackal, a custom pistol capable of destroying regenerative and vampiric creatures.

"I've been doing just fine, Seras. I have an apartment here I've been living in for several months. My roommate helps keep me safe while I sleep in the basement and—"

"Roommate?" Alucard cut in, surprised. Wynter smiled. "Yes. I have a roommate who shares the rent with me. She knows I go out and hunt down ghouls at night. She's also aware of Simon and the others,"

Seras shook her head, waving her hands to cease Wynter's talking, "Wait, wait, just who is she? Is she human? How did you meet her?" she asked.

"I'll take you guys to my apartment when the sun rises," Wynter said, "As a rule, she's a light sleeper and an early riser,"

Wynter stood up, her wings ruffling beneath her coat. She cringed and sighed, "I really miss my cloak. But thanks to that damned paladin, I had to take it to get it professionally mended" she muttered, "Well, I think I'm going to head up to the roof. It's a beautiful night and I'd like to take advantage of it while I've got it,"

She started toward the door. Alucard stood up, "I think I'll join you. If you don't mind, I wish to have a word with you," he said. Wynter glanced back blankly and shrugged, "It's fine by me," she said. "Seras, you okay?"

"Yeah, but what should I do if he wakes up?" she asked, pointing to Simon.

"He'll be fine. He usually has a difficult time just before dawn, but once he wakes up, he's right as rain," Wynter told her. They left, leaving Seras alone with Simon, still deeply asleep and dreaming. Seras moved to sit down on the bed beside him, staring out the window and thinking. She couldn't believe that Wynter had come back! Well, maybe she hadn't come back. They were miles from London and there was no guarantee that she'd follow them back to Hellsing. She hoped that Wynter would come back. It was so lonely at the estate without her.

She sighed and glanced at Simon as he turned over in his sleep. "Mommy...daddy..." he whispered. Seras frowned. Was he dreaming about his life before his run in with the agency?

"Poor kid," she muttered.

Up on the roof, Alucard sat beside Wynter, staring out at the water. Looking at them, one might have assumed they were old friends who hadn't met in years, or estranged father and daughter trying to settle their differences, or even ex-lovers trying to work out a compromise. However, as proper vampires, none of the above really applied. Time held no real meaning to them. A year had passed, but it might as well have been a few days.

Wynter had a bit of rope in her hands she was playing cat's cradle with. She gazed up at the setting moon and sighed, "Integra sounds like she has a lot on her plate right now. I've been keeping tabs on Hellsing's progress and it sounds like some of the survivors are giving her problems. She must have a lot going on," Wynter said.

"She does. She refuses to rest and the doctors are worried for her health. She's quite stressed at the moment,"

"Why?" Wynter asked.

"She's considering adoption," Alucard answered. Wynter's head snapped up in surprise, staring at him, "Adoption? A human child?" she said. He nodded, "Yes. She has decided never to marry and as a result, she will likely never bear a child of her own to take control of the organization. But this route has its disadvantages," he said.

"The absence of the pure Hellsing blood," Wynter said, "I see. She's concerned about that,"

"She is. But for a human, she is quite strong and she'll figure a path for herself,"

"Yes," Wynter agreed, "She is strong. One of the most willful humans I've met. For me, she ranks up there with Tobias. That fool," she said fondly.

"Your former lover?" Alucard smirked. Wynter sighed, "He wasn't my lover, master. He was my fledgling. I cared for him a great deal. He was the first to treat me like a living being and not just a monster. I respected him greatly because of this and perhaps I did allow myself to feel love for him, but he's been dead for over seventy years, now."

"I see. You weren't lying to me, then," Alucard said. "When you first appeared after a hundred and fifty-two years before, Wynter, I must admit, I was quite surprised. Your will alone far exceeds any vampire I've met."

"Don't try to compliment me, master. I've managed just fine on my own up until this point," Wynter hissed.

"What, I'm not allowed to praise my own fledgling?" Alucard said, grinning.

"I'm no longer your fledgling. I'm still bound to you, but I'm purely independent now," Wynter said, "I drink blood of my own will and wander the night, powerful and singular,"

Alucard chuckled and removed his sunglasses, "Now where have I heard that before?" he mused. He glanced at his glasses and then turned to her, holding them out, "Here, try these on," he said. Wynter eyed him strangely and moved her gaze from the glasses to him, "Uh...what for?" she asked.

"I just want to see how they look on you," he said as though it were the simplest thing in the world. Wynter scowled and sighed, "Jeez, you're weird," she grumbled, snatching them from him and putting them on. She turned to look at him and snarled when he started snickering, "Stop laughing!" she yelled. She whipped them off and hurled them at him. He caught them and continued to chuckle, "You're so thin-skinned, Wynter. Learn to have a little backbone, there,"

"Oh shut up. You're as bad as that damned paladin,"

"Oh. Do you speak of Father Anderson?" Alucard asked with a sadistic interest that bordered on excitement. Wynter sighed heavily and leaned her chin on her upraised hand, "Yeah, it's him. I had another run in with him two months ago. My god, that man is a piece of work. He never gives up, does he?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Alucard said, grinning. "So what did you do this time?"

"I have no idea," Wynter said with emphasis, "I was here, in Bristol, disguised as a random peasant woman. I had everything, the wig, the dress, the works. It's evening, I'm walking back home with some groceries and what happens? That damn priest shows up and the next thing I know, I've been impaled twenty times over and I'm quickly sinking into the harbor waters, wondering what hit me and how I got there in the first place. If it weren't for my roommate watching from the apartment window, I might have been down there for hours,"

Alucard frowned, "That doesn't sound like him. Usually he enjoys toying with his victims as much as he enjoys killing them," Alucard said. "Maybe you've reached my status in his eyes,"

"Oh, joy. Ranks right up there with that blasted incense Arakawa was waving around last year. But what I don't understand is why he failed to kill me four times. Unlike you, if my heart is pierced, I'll probably die. He has cut my head off before, twice actually. He's probably realized that I'm not a normal vampire, either. I just hope he doesn't come back. I can't stand the thought of him discovering one of the survivors," she said anxiously. "They don't stand a chance against him,"

Alucard watched her silently. She'd slipped into a ponderous melancholy. Looking at her then, he felt that something was different about her, but he was unable to place it.

"Wynter," he said, "Has Genevieve reappeared?" he asked out of the blue. Wynter's head shot up in alarm and Alucard knew he'd been dead on. Wynter's face fell and she raised her gaze to the full moon hanging majestically on the horizon. A slight wind blew up, but Alucard barely noticed it.

"She has, master," Wynter mumbled, "She appears in my dreams every day. I'm standing on a frozen lake in a world where time has seemingly stopped. There are statues surrounding me, people that seem so familiar, yet whose faces I can't identify. Genevieve is walking through the statues, wearing this blue and silver gown and a dark scarlet shawl. She always turns to me and begins to speak, but I can't understand what she says. The only thing is I hear is the name 'Bianca'. But that's about it."

Alucard's eyes flickered suddenly as something popped into the back of his mind. He frowned suspiciously, but dismissed it and shook his head, "Interesting," he said, "I wonder if it might be some kind of omen,"

"Come on, don't be ridiculous, it's just a dream," Wynter said, brushing him off. She raised her gaze to the sky once again, "Besides, I have more important things to dwell on right now," she muttered.

"Such as?" Alucard pried. Wynter smiled, a cunning, sly grin usually found in hardened criminals and aged vampires far older than she.

"I prefer to keep that a secret," she said. "Besides, what do you care?"

"I do have a question," Alucard said, changing the subject. Wynter could be just as stubborn as he was. He knew it would do no good trying to reason with her.

"Yes?" she said.

"Tell me, why did that boy refer to you as 'God'?" he asked. Wynter picked at her nails and brought one knees up to rest her arm against as she gazed out at the moonlight reflecting off the still waters of Bristol, "Because I was responsible for his creation," she replied, "That boy was stolen from his parents twenty-seven years ago at the tender age of seventeen. He was so traumatized that his newly acquired vampiric mind reverted to that of an eight-year-old. He can't function as a vampire and I should really just kill him. But I can't bring myself to do it."

"He's going to die by another's hands, Wynter," Alucard said gravely.

"I know that, master, but...I just can't do it."

She smirked and shook her head with a defeated sigh, "I guess I'm still not a true Nosferatu," she said quietly. Alucard didn't reply; there was nothing to say. Wynter looked up at him, a questioning look on her face, "Master," she said, "Tell me what my life was like as a human," she told him.

Alucard frowned, humming, "And why do you want to know that?"

"I can't remember anything and I can't piece together any more memories. I'd like to know, that's all," she said.

"I can't tell you much else," Alucard told her, " I only knew you for a day before I turned you. All I knew was that you were engaged,"

Wynter sighed, hunching over and folding her arms, "I guess that's to be expected," she mumbled, "I just wish I knew. You can remember your human life, can't you?"

"I can, though it isn't all that pleasant," Alucard said brusquely.

"I see. Considering who you are, that's understandable," Wynter replied quietly. Alucard regarded her curiously, "You know?"

"Sure. I put it together pretty early on. So that was an actual historical event?"

"Yes, it was. Humans are fascinating, albeit irritating,"

"Of course," Wynter muttered, "There's a young man who lives down the road who seems to have taken a liking to me. He tends to follow me on my errands. It's quite irritating,"

Alucard smirked, twirling his glasses between his fingers, "Why don't you just tell him off?" he asked.

"Easier said than done, master," Wynter said wryly, "Although, I am flattered. This must be what it's like for humans to begin experiencing a normal lifestyle. I'll never get to do normal human things like find a steady job, get married, or raise a family. I don't regret anything master, I just..." she said, trailing off. Alucard sighed, "Wynter, enough. It's quite clear that I'm no longer your master."

"If I had agreed to drink your blood, that would officially be the case. However, I refused, for my own sake, to do so," Wynter countered lightly, "Honestly, I don't think I could survive if I freed myself from you. I was always aware that I had the potential to become immensely powerful and with these added modifications from the agency, I'm afraid that I'd become stronger than you someday."

Alucard frowned, his eyes blazing in the dying moonlight and the faint glow of the sun rising over the water, "Wynter, listen," he said gravely, "A hundred and fifty-three years have passed. Your power has grown. If you are not already my equal, you will soon be so,"

"I don't want to be," Wynter said quietly, "I've been living in Bristol for about four months now, but I love it here. I wear contact lenses, I dress up in normal clothes, I buy food I won't eat...I act human. It's actually kind of fun. A mundane, everyday human life is boring and quiet, peaceful and serene. As a vampire, trouble comes looking for me on a daily basis. Anderson, for example. My god, he's irritating. He knows I'm here and he comes out here every couple of weeks hoping to take a stab at me. I don't know how the hell he keeps recognizing me through my disguises! But aside from him, I'd just like to spend a few years as a human. Is that too much to ask for?" Wynter asked. Alucard sighed and replaced his glasses, pushing the frames up closer to his eyes, "Yes, Wynter," he said quietly, "It is. You're a child of the darkness. We both are. We gave up our humanity to become monsters. We were unable to go on as humans, so we were weak. We gave in to the pressure and took the supposedly easy way out of whatever pain we were going through. We gave up our lives and every precious article we held onto. In your case, you lost all memory of everything and everyone you loved,"

"It's rare to hear you talk so seriously," Wynter said, feeling strangely closer to him than she had in a long time.

Alucard smirked, "Whether you believe it or not, I do have a serious way of thinking, Wynter," he said, chuckling. But his mood darkened once again, "I'll say it again. Asking to live as a human, even for a short while, is asking for too much. So long as we continue to devour the pain of humans, we'll live for as long as we want to. But because we devour this pain, we have no right to exist among them."

Wynter hummed, "I see," she muttered. She felt slightly depressed. Alucard was like a father to her. She couldn't remember her real father and like she'd told Tobias so long ago, Alucard had been her entire world during the first few weeks of her vampiric life. Even now, Alucard still meant a great deal to her, so much so that a newcomer looking on would believe her to be suffering from unrequited love for the man who gave her life. But that just wasn't the case. She felt a kind of love for him, but as an admirer and as a daughter figure, a child looking up to a parent with respect and adoration.

"Master," she said, "Tell me. I sacrificed my memories when I became a vampire. But...well, what did you sacrifice for your life?"

Alucard started slightly at her question, but remained silent for several minutes, seemingly pondering his response to his fledgling. Finally, he raised his head, staring out over the water.

"I gave up the most precious thing in the world to me, the one thing I would have given my life to protect." he said.

"What was it?" Wynter asked. To her surprise, Alucard actually told her. Wynter's eyes widened in horror and an almost fear at his response, and for some reason, her thoughts raced to Simon and the other survivors, but she calmed and sighed.

"I see," she said again. "But given your reasoning, I suppose that you had no other option. I'm sorry, master. That must have been so difficult. "

"If I was looking for pity, Wynter, I'd have told you something much worse," Alucard said grimly. Wynter chuckled dryly, "Yes, of course," she said. "But, you have me now, and Seras, of course. Does that kind of make you forget?"

Alucard smiled faintly, "I will never forget, Wynter. I remember everything clearly, down the last second. But you are correct in one manner; you and Seras are quite important. And as morose as you are and as clumsy as Seras is, I'm fortunate to have you two."

Wynter nodded once, "Good. I'm glad to hear it," she said.

A/N: I want kind of a father/daughter thing for Alucard and Wynter. It think it's cute. Tell me what you think if you like it. Oh, and remember the name Bianca, people. That's not just a plot-filler. That's all I'm gonna say.


	5. Four

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Here's the next chapter, ready and waiting to be enjoyed. I've got some zany ideas for this story and I'm looking forward to posting them. Hopefully, they aren't too zany. But then, you all have probably read the manga, so I doubt any of you would be too surprised, huh? After all, Kohta Hirano is as crazy as they come, lol.

Four

The morning light gently penetrated the thick curtains covering the window and sitting in a corner where the light didn't hit, Seras stifled a yawn.

"I guess it's time to go, huh?" she mumbled. Alucard stood off a short distance, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, watching Wynter as she woke Simon from his deep slumber. She'd donned a white summer dress and sun hat from a pack she wore beneath her coat, the permanent pallor marking her face standing out somewhat less blatantly, though the red emphasized her red eyes.

"Yeah," Wynter answered, "I need to be back soon, and Simon has to return to the base,"

"Base?" Seras asked as Simon finally opened his eyes and moaned, turning over and burying his head in his pillow.

"Yes," Wynter said as she yanked him up by the collar of his shirt and shoved him to his feet, "Simon doesn't live with me. He lives with a natural friend of mine who owns a small bakery on the edge of town. She's been posing as her own descendants for about eighty years, but she doesn't look a day over fifteen. She's looking after him for me."

Simon whimpered and scowled at Seras, moving behind Wynter as he bared his fangs. Wynter slapped him lightly on the back of the head and shoved him out in front of her, "Don't be rude, Simon," she admonished, "This is my sister. You're to show her your respect, you hear me?"

Simon glowered irritably and refused to answer. Wynter sighed and threw him a change of clothes. Seras figured that if she was this prepared for him, that Simon must escape from the bakery on a regular basis. Simon grudgingly went into the bathroom and put on the clothes, coming back out with the others folded in a plastic grocery bag. Wynter stared him hard in the eyes, "Now listen, Simon, I left you at the bakery for a reason. Marjorie is perfectly capable of taking care of you, better than I ever could. You need to stay there, understand?"

"But I don't wanna stay there! I wanna stay with you!" Simon protested.

"You're not old enough. You need to be stronger if you want any chance of surviving with me, okay?" Wynter growled.

"No! I'm not going back!"

"If you don't go back, then I'll be forced to take action, Simon. Do _not_ make me go into details," Wynter hissed. Simon blanched and made a face at her. Then, he turned and hurried out of the room, presumably heading back toward the bakery.

"That brat is driving me crazy," Wynter mumbled, "But I can't seem to bring myself to tell him off,"

She faced Alucard, "Well, I suppose it's time to get going." she said.

"So where exactly have you been living for the past year?" Alucard asked.

"It's actually only the last few months, really," Wynter told him, "Up until then, I'd been living a nomadic lifestyle, like I always used to,"

"And your roommate?" Seras asked.

"Met five months ago. Some sorry group of survivors of Arakawa's agency. It's a long story, so I'll save it for some other time,"

This was said as they left the building. Over the water, the sun was just beginning to show itself in all its fiery glory. Seras pulled the hood of her coat up and shoved her hands in her pockets. Wynter stretched, "All right," she said, "Time to go,"

She led them down the streets of early-morning Bristol. Already, vendors were beginning to set up shop along the streets as they sold foreign trinkets and other goods. Wynter paused at one stall whose vendor was selling bright Red Delicious apples. He tipped his hat and grinned, "A Washington State specialty," he proclaimed, "Ain't often we get a shipment like this, little lady," he said in a heavy western accent. He clearly wasn't from England. Wynter smiled, "Don't let my looks fool you mister, I'm actually a lot older than you think. Tell me, how much do they go for?"

"For you, I'd offer a deal price of four for a dollar,"

"I see," Wynter said, "You're an American, aren't you?"

The man faltered and blinked somewhat confusedly, "Is it that obvious?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so," Wynter said with a chuckle, "Your accent and the fact that we use pounds out here gave you away."

"Oh. Guess I still need some work to blend in."

"Naturally, you being a foreigner would attract a great deal of attention, am I right?" Wynter asked. The man blinked again, surprised, and then grinned. His front tooth was missing, giving him a strangely cheerful, innocent aura.

"I guess you're right!" he exclaimed boisterously. Wynter reached out and took an apple, tossing it up lightly and catching it, "So, how much did you pay for your share of the shipment? Did you help to transport it out here?" she asked cheerfully.

"Uh, well, if you convert American dollars into pounds, I'd guess I paid about two-hundred pounds for them,"

"Uh-huh," Wynter muttered, "And about how much is a shipment like this generally worth?"

The dealer scratched his chin thoughtfully and Seras wondered what Wynter was doing as she watched this. She started to voice her concerns to Alucard, but he placed a finger over his lips and shook his head, indicating for her to watch and see.

"Well, in American dollars, a shipment of this size, about seventeen bushels worth is about two-fifty per pound. At sixty pounds in weight all round, I'd estimate about a hundred and fifty pounds. What, are you saying I got scammed when I purchased these?" he asked, suddenly realizing where she was taking this.

"I'm afraid so, my friend," Wynter said, replacing the apple, "Because if you paid two-hundred pounds for these bushels of apples, which is fifty more pounds than they're actually worth, I'm afraid you've been conned out of fifty extra pounds, which I believe is seventy-five American dollars. Sorry, but I suppose you have to learn these things the hard way. Maybe next time, you'll learn to haggle the price down to begin with and prevent these kinds of situations."

And with those parting words, she left the vendor standing there staring open-mouthed at his supply of overpriced apples glittering invitingly in the early morning light. Seras hurried to catch up with Wynter, astonished, "That was amazing! How'd you know?" she asked.

"The vendor struck me as a rookie to begin with," Wynter explained, "He seemed a little too open about his supply, hinting to me that he might have gotten them for a good price, or so he thought. I had nothing to gain from that little transaction, but I figured it would help him in the long run. My guess is that he suddenly needed some kind of work for whatever reason and took a job selling cargo shipments for a shipping company around here. Unless he has things to trade, he has to buy his own stock and try to make a profit that will make up the difference of what he put out for it. Since he was given a figure that was far greater than the actual worth, now he has to make that much just to break even,"

"I'm amazed that you noticed that," Seras said, glancing back at the vendor, still gaping at his stock.

"I'm impressed, Wynter," Alucard pointed out, "Your skills of observation have at least doubled,"

"Thank you, master. Now, onward, forward, upward."

Seras studied Wynter as she led them down the street. Wynter was still the same as she was the night they met when she destroyed that vampire attacking a village in the north. Today, she'd chosen to wear a white summer dress with a cream-colored shawl draped over her shoulders to protect her fair skin from the scorching rays of the sun. A white sun-hat and matching gypsy sandals completed the ensemble. It was a sharp contrast to her usual black attire, causing her hair to starkly stand out.

"So," Alucard said, "Going for pure white instead of sinful black today?"

"I already told you, what I wear makes no difference. I've quit trying to disguise myself because someway or another, that Paladin keeps spotting me. If he's in the city today, no disguise is going to fool him, so I've quit trying. He's bound and determined to kill me, that much is certain,"

"Tell me," Alucard said, "Why does he continue to come out here?"

"He knows that a large number of vampires is living out here, but that they aren't presenting themselves as targets. He also knows that I'm a part of them and he probably figures that if he can kill me, he can eradicate the order of the cabal. That's precisely the reason I pretend to be the leader when I'm really not. I'm not easy to kill, and Anderson knows this,"

"He can be kind of scary when he wants to be," Seras said, shivering.

"If he ever gets brave enough to challenge me face to face, I'd accept it in a heartbeat. I like a good fight when the stakes are even."

"Looking at you now, it's hard to accept. If I hadn't been the one who turned you, I'd never have believed you were once an aristocrat," Alucard said wryly.

"I'm still a lady of fine upbringing, master," Wynter said irritably, "And I'll have you know that ladies never start fights. We do, however, finish them," she said with a touch of pride in her voice.

"Aren't there any normal people in this place?" Seras moaned.

"Depends. Define what you mean by 'normal', Seras," Wynter chimed. Seras sighed heavily and her chin flopped to her chest in defeat.

They turned a corner along the street and Wynter paused at a small brick building a few blocks away from the dock. "Here we are," she said, "Home sweet home, more or less. Watch your step; the bricks are loose,"

She hurried up the steps and pulled a key from the lining of her shawl, unlocking and opening the door. She stepped inside and—

"Freeze!"

Seras squeaked and jumped, whipping her hand gun out of her jacket and aiming at the petite girl standing before them in the front hallway, pistol raised. She faltered slightly at the sight of Wynter, but growled and braced again when she caught sight of Seras and Alucard.

"Are you with Hellsing or are you from Iscariot? Let Wynter go and leave now!" she snapped, a slight Polish accent evident in her voice. She was a tiny thing, wearing a pair of white Capri pants and a pink sleeveless top that was covered in water splotches. Her long black hair was tied up in a ponytail with a short-cropped layer hanging free and framing her face behind her large-framed glasses. Her gray eyes blazed in the morning light as she stared them down with an expression that was a little too professional for a simple girl.

"Sasha, cool it," Wynter said calmly, "These people you see with me are my sire and my younger sister. Put the gun down,"

The girl, Sasha's eyes widened, but she still didn't lower her weapon, "How do I know they haven't tricked you into believing their lies, Wynter? I'll bet they're spies of that damned Paladin! The one who's always tormenting you!"

Wynter's eyes blazed and she snarled, baring her fangs, "Sasha, I said put that gun down, now!" she barked. Here, Sasha immediately lowered the weapon, watching her fearfully. Wynter approached and lightly knocked her fist against Sasha's forehead before putting her hands on her shoulders and gently pushing her toward Alucard and Seras, "Master, Seras, this is my roommate, Sasha Pevensy,"

Seras grinned, inadvertently showing her fangs, "Nice to meet you, Sasha," she said, extending her hand. Sasha eyed it warily, "Ecstatic," she growled, pushing away and sticking her gun in her belt loop. She stalked off into the next room. Wynter sighed and turned to her guests, "I still wonder how we became friends," she said wearily, "She lost her mother to a vampire and her father committed suicide some years back as a result, so needless to say, she's extremely mistrustful of our kind,"

"Understandable," Alucard pointed out, "However, I recommend you setting her straight before we do anything else,"

"Point taken," Wynter said, "Sasha! Come back out here!"

A slight sound of footfalls met their ears as a glimpse of her head appeared around the corner. Her eyes were dangerously narrowed, "What is it, Wynter?" she growled.

"Come on, I'm serious when I say that I wasn't tricked and that Anderson has nothing to do with them. Don't be so defensive,"

"But Wynter, that damned freak has nearly killed you twice since we moved here!" Sasha complained, "The last time, he threw you in the harbor after stabbing you twenty times! That's not right!"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Wynter said bemusedly, "Besides, I think those times, he was just trying to get his point across, no pun intended. I'm sure the next time, or maybe the time after that or the time after that, he'll finally challenge me to my face and we can settle it once and for all," she said with a smile. Sasha, unconvinced, but unwilling to argue, apparently, stepped out from behind the wall with a sigh, "I hate it when you get optimistic like that," she said.

"I do it to make you feel better,"

"It makes me worry; that's all it does," Sasha growled. She eyed Alucard and Seras with evident mistrust before nodding politely, "My name is Sasha. I guess it's nice to meet you. You, Red, she said you're her sire. Just what exactly does that mean?"

Alucard blinked and tilted his head, "Red?" he muttered. Wynter snickered, "Just go with it for now, master," she whispered. Alucard rolled his eyes before facing Sasha, "It means that I was the vampire responsible for turning Wynter," he explained.

"So in other words, you bit her and drank her blood, is that it?" Sasha grumbled with clear distaste.

"To be frank, yes," Alucard replied with a leer.

"Creep. Do you find some kind of enjoyment from changing young girls into vampires?" Sasha snapped. Alucard didn't answer. In truth, he was a little astonished. Usually, he was the one putting people on the spot just before he killed them. It wasn't too often that a human did the same thing to him with the same results he usually got.

"Sasha, stop it," Wynter snarled, "Alucard isn't like the vampire who killed your mother for one thing and for another, I specifically asked him to change me!"

"But...but why?" Sasha asked timidly, "Why would you ask him?"

"It's none of your concern. Now, can we see if we can't be a little bit courteous to our guests? Hm?" Wynter said, stalking past her into the next room. "Come on back here!" she called. Alucard and Seras stepped past Sasha, who glared at them as they did. They proceeded down the hall and into the next room, which actually turned out to be a spacious room that divided between a living space and a kitchen with a sliding glass door installed in the latter portion of the room. It led out onto a small deck overlooking the water. In the dim morning light, Seras was able to go and take a look outside while Alucard just casually took in his surroundings. Wynter fished something out of the refrigerator and offered it to him. It was a transfusion bag.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, accepting it and tearing the end off. Wynter had one herself and watched as Sasha wandered back in, pointedly ignoring the other two vampires in the room.

"I've managed to forge connections in our world, master," Wynter said, smirking, "I have a friend who works in the medical industry and who just happens to be a werewolf human mixture,"

Alucard's eyes opened wide, "Helene!" he exclaimed.

"Bingo. Helene decided to go to school to become a doctor with Louis' encouragement. He's her sponsor so she doesn't have to worry about cost. Louis told me that it's his way of making up for what he did to us. Helene supplies me with these things; a few dozen a month."

"Very interesting. What else have you been up to of late?" Alucard asked.

"Other than ducking the Iscariots whenever they come by, pretty much just trying to etch out a human existence here. I was able to purchase a small motorboat using some money I'd been saving. It's not in the best condition, but it's man-made so it's safe for me to use."

"I told you, I don't want you going out on that rickety piece of junk," Sasha snapped from the sofa, "If it sinks, then you're dead,"

"News flash, Sasha, I'm already dead. I'd just be more dead," Wynter said wryly. Over by the door, Seras giggled. Sasha snorted and flipped open a book she held. Alucard wandered over and peered down at the cover, "_The Count of Monte Cristo_, hm? An excellent read,"

"I take it you've read it?" Sasha grumbled, not looking up, "I didn't know vampires read,"

"Sasha!" Wynter snapped.

"Actually," Alucard cut in calmly, "I've read a wide variety of books over the years. It never hurts to fortify your mind as well as your body, correct?" he said to Wynter.

"Don't look at me, I've spent the last century just learning how to live without getting myself killed," Wynter said. "I'm saving the books for when I'm a few more decades old,"

"So then," Alucard continued, "Tell me about these connections you mentioned,"

"Marjorie, the natural vampire who runs that bakery, is the head of a small cabal of vampires existing in Bristol. I told you about this group. Whenever a new one manages to cross over or is created, he or she is supposed to meet with Marjorie and be counted in her register, which she updates weekly. It has the name, address, phone number if they have one, birth-date, origin, parentage, sire or dam's name, and age at turning written down. Every vampire in Bristol and the nearby villages is accounted for and there's about forty-seven of us in total,"

Alucard whistled, "Impressive, Wynter," he said.

"Marjorie isn't the strongest vampire around, though. In fact, she's quite weak. Seeing how I'm the strongest, it's my job to protect the others. They're to come seeking me whenever they're in trouble. The Iscariots keep me busy, that's for dang sure," she growled.

"I believe I'd like to see this register," Alucard said plainly, "It might help us,"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"We were sent out here to gather information on a large number of vampires spotted heading toward England," Seras said from the window. Wynter frowned and hummed, "I can't imagine why a larger number would come out here. Every vampire in Bristol is relatively strong because they were able to cross over the water," she explained, "Marjorie is the weakest of the strongest vampires in this area. This is why she was charged with keeping the register when she formed this cabal. She looks the most human out of all of us,"

"I help her with her computer on occasion," Sasha said from her place on the sofa, "That girl doesn't get the hang of technology at all. But electronic files are the safest way to protect the register,"

"Protect it from what?" Seras asked, coming over to stand by Wynter. Wynter's eyes darkened, "Who else? The Iscariots. Even though they don't like Hellsing hunting vampires outside of their territory, they have no qualms about sneaking around down here. If they got hold of that register, then every vampire in Bristol is doomed," Wynter said grimly.

"Well," Seras said, "They won't. At least, they shouldn't,"

Sasha stood up suddenly and moved toward the window, her gun in hand as she peeked through the blinds to the street below. Alucard and Wynter watched her silently while Seras frowned, her hand going for her gun silently.

"Wynter," Sasha whispered, "It's Iscariot,"

"What? Now?" Wynter hissed, hurrying over to the other side of the window to look out, "Damn it, if it's Anderson then I'm going to be fit to be tied. I really don't feel like dealing with him right now,"

"No," Sasha said, "I think it's that girl, Heinkel. I've heard of her for her gun skills, but I've never seen her up close,"

Seras scampered over and took a look through the slits in the blinds, "It is her," she said, "Does she come here often?"

Wynter shook her head once, "Not that I'm aware of," she replied.

They watched the taller, slightly boyish girl stop in the middle of the sidewalk, turn and peer up at the window and then push back her sleeve to check her wristwatch. None of them flinched. They knew she couldn't see them through the blinds. They didn't move. Wynter's eyes scrutinized her like a hawk, but she didn't budge. Finally, Heinkel seemed to judge complete safety around that street for the time being. She turned and moved back down the sidewalk toward the docks. Sasha and Seras breathed a sigh of relief and straightened up. Wynter followed suit, ruffling her wings in agitation, "I've run into Heinkel before," she stated, "She's almost as scary as Anderson is,"

Wynter moved quickly toward the back door, her long hair billowing behind her as she opened her wings to their full length, scattering loose feathers. She slid the door open and beat her wings just once, lifting herself onto the flat roof. They heard her walking around briefly before she assessed that the danger had passed and touched down on the deck once again. She stepped back inside and folded her wings perpendicularly behind her, like a bird would.

"Heinkel is gone for now, but she may have been a scout. We should probably leave the house for now. Sasha, do you agree?" she asked, turning to her partner. Sasha stood up from the sofa, "I do. As long as a single damn Iscariot is in Bristol, it isn't safe for you, Wynter. Lets' go to the bakery. We'll be safer there, at least,"

Seras made a funny choking noise, "But Anderson hates Protestants and Bristol is full of them. A few human lives mean nothing to him with those stakes," she complained.

"He has yet to attack me in front of crowds," Wynter explained, "He'll probably stick to his usual methods,"

"You have way too much faith in that maniac," Sasha grumbled.

/ooo/

Wynter's seemingly misguided trust, however, was right on the dot. They were able to make it to the bakery without any signs of trouble. Inside, they found a few scattered humans scanning the shelves of freshly baked goods. Alucard removed his glasses and hummed softly. Seras glanced at him curiously, "What's wrong, master?"

"I was just recalling how fond I was of fresh bread when I was human. Now, it's nothing more than a dusty dream," he said casually, replacing his glasses.

Wynter smiled, "Getting used to giving up human food was difficult. Fortunately, not remembering what anything tasted like helped me,"

"You make it sound like total and permanent amnesia is a good thing," Seras grumbled. Wynter chuckled and turned to the counter as a short, thin girl emerged from the back. She had mid-length black hair tied into two braids with ribbon and thick glasses similar to Sasha's. She blinked and smiled at them shyly, "Good morning," she said quietly.

"Morning," Seras said with a smile, "Um, do you work here, by chance?"

"Yes, I do," the girl said in a soft, melodic voice, "Wynter, I take it you came to see the register?"

"Yes, thank you, Marjorie," Wynter said, making Seras do a double-take.

"That's Marjorie?" she exclaimed, "She's so little!"

Marjorie blushed and gripped the fabric of her dress uncomfortably, "I was only fourteen when I was turned," she said timidly, "Uh, why don't you come into the back room,"

She ushered them past the counter, Wynter leading the way. Through the kitchen was a small living area with a few chairs clustered around a frail-looking wooden table. Marjorie offered each of them a chair and then took a seat at the head of the table herself, "So, Wynter, would you introduce me?"

"Sure," Wynter said with a nod, "Everyone, this is Marjorie, the girl I told you about. She manages and updates the register for every vampire in Bristol and the surrounding countryside."

Seras was still staring, "But I thought you'd at least look so much older," she said, "I'm sorry, but I'm just a little surprised. How long have you been a vampire?"

Marjorie giggled, "Oh, well over three-hundred years," she said pleasantly, "And how about yourself?"

Seras blanched and sighed nervously, "Uh, well...two," she choked. Marjorie laughed, a surprisingly charming sound coming from a vampire, "Well, I was only two years old once, too, you know. We all have to start out somewhere."

"Uh...right," Seras said quietly, "Oh, I'm Seras Victoria, by the way,"

Marjorie nodded, "And it's very nice to meet you. I already know Sasha and Wynter and I believe I've met Alucard once or twice as well, am I correct, Alucard?"

"Precisely. Now that I've seen you again, I've definitely met you before, Marjorie. I believe we ran across you in World War II, if I'm not mistaken,"

Marjorie's eyes shown at the recognition, "Yes, I did see you and that young lad, the skilled garrote user. Oh, how is he doing these days? Is he well?"

"Oh, you mean Walter," Seras said, "He's older now, but he's doing okay,"

Marjorie sighed and smiled, "I'm relieved to hear it. I was quite taken with that boy when I met him. Such strong will, goodness, I hadn't seen anything of that magnitude in any living creature in over a century,"

"Marjorie," Wynter cut in, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we need to have a look at the register, if you don't mind,"

Marjorie pushed her chair back and got to her feet, flipping one of her braids back over her shoulder, "Right away," she said, moving to a small wooden chest resting on the floor against the wall several feet away. She pulled a string with a key dangling from it out from beneath her dress around her neck and unlocked the chest, taking a laptop computer and a stack of weather-worn documents out and bringing them over.

"Who shall take these?" she asked. Wynter reached for the articles, "I will. I know what to look for," she answered. She set the computer down and opened it up, starting it and sorting through the documents while she waited for it to load. She handed these to Alucard, who sifted through them. Marjorie stood behind him while he read, "As you can see, there are registered vampires here who dated all the way back to a hundred years ago. I've only been in the bakery for eighty years or so, but I've been keeping a register for a lot longer than that."

"I'm aware of a few individuals, here," Alucard mumbled, "Ilya Proctor. Hm, is she still alive, by any chance?"

"She is. She comes by once a week to chat," Marjorie said cheerfully, "Although she's looking a tad haggard these days. She only feeds once every five months. Do you know her?"

"I'm acquainted with her," Alucard said, sounding somewhat peeved. He said nothing more and continued to browse through the register in the papers. Marjorie turned to Wynter as she started typing at a breakneck pace. Marjorie smiled proudly, "All of the newer records are on the hard drive. Thanks to Sasha, I've got everything heavily encrypted for my eyes and the eyes of those I approve, only,"

"Damn, if Anderson saw this..." Wynter mumbled, her eyes following the steady stream of information. Marjorie sighed sadly, "I know. He and the Iscariots are focusing on England for some reason. Mr. Anderson probably does know that I lead our cabal, but he doesn't know what I look like or that I keep careful and detailed records of everyone and their whereabouts. It's so troubling," she said.

"Hm," Wynter mumbled, "From this, I can see that everyone is accounted for, and that you've recently added a new one to the register. A Damon Bakshi, is it?"

Marjorie nodded once, "Yes, he was turned by none other than Ilya Proctor. She claims she saved him after he was struck down by a car. Fortunately, his only living relative is an uncle who is abusive toward him, so I had another member, Samantha Gray, erase his memories for us. He has no recollection of his nephew whatsoever,"

"It says here that Damon was only nine years of age at his turning. Agh! Damn it, that's way too young!" Wynter snarled, "Ilya can be such an idiot, sometimes!"

"I agree," Marjorie said cheerfully, "But it can't be helped. I'm having the lady who looks after the fruit stand down the road take care of him. She's also a vampire, so there's nothing to worry about,"

Seras blinked in amazement, "Wow! Just how many vampires are there in this city?"

Wynter scanned through the stats again, "Well, apparently, there's forty-eight, now," she said, "Marjorie not only looks after some of them, but she also helps the older, more experienced ones find stable jobs in the community to help them better blend in. Every couple of years, individuals move into other regions so as not rouse suspicion because they don't age. Actually, a good deal of Bristol's population is composed of vampires under Marjorie's care," Wynter explained, "Because it's near the sea, it's usually the last place hunters would think to look for them. At least, until now," she added silently. Her mind had gone back to Hellsing and the Iscariots. She turned to Alucard somewhat timidly, "Listen, you can't tell Integra about this," she said, "All the vampires listed in this registry are only here so they can escape being hunted down and slaughtered on the mainland. Everyone in this list is a part of a small percentage of vampires who are just trying to survive in a difficult world. You have to keep this a secret," she begged her former master. Alucard seemed doubtful and he sighed, "We came here to find out why this influx of vampires is moving toward England," he said, " From what I'm understanding, this cabal of yours has nothing to do with it,"

Wynter's face broke into a grin at his hidden meaning and without warning, she raced toward him, throwing her arms around his neck, "Thank you so much!" she exclaimed, "I mean it! Thanks!"

She released him suddenly and sat back down, fingers flying across the keys as she worked tirelessly. Alucard, somewhat baffled, watched her briefly and then shook his head in bewilderment.

After a half an hour of watching Wynter type endlessly, she finally sat back with a sigh and smiled, "Done," she proclaimed. Marjorie made her way over and peered down at what the older Draculina had been slaving over, "What did you do?"

"Living with Sasha has taught me a lot about computers," Wynter said, "So I went through and worked in a code to automatically encrypt the data every single day. We also should transcribe the hard copies into the computer and then burn them," Wynter instructed her. Marjorie's hands flew to her mouth, "No! We mustn't burn them! They're priceless records!" she cried.

"No matter how old they are, Marjorie, if Iscariot got a hold of them, they'd know not only the whereabouts of dozens of vampires living in Bristol, but also the fact that we keep highly detailed records of all of them. The last thing Anderson needs to know about is this data. We have no other choice,"

Marjorie listened with a heavy heart and sighed sadly, "I'll start work on it first thing this evening," she said quietly.

"Sooner if you can," Wynter told her, "Now then, I believe your daylight assistant is coming to work soon, so you'll get a few hours' rest before you take your shift. Oh, and by the way, did Simon come back?" Wynter asked as she folded the laptop up. Marjorie rolled her eyes to the ceiling in thought, "I believe he did. As far as I know, he's up in the attic, sulking," she joked.

"He wants to stay with me, but I just can't let him. With Anderson and now Heinkel wandering the streets of Bristol, it's just not safe, now," Wynter said with a chuckle.

"It can't be helped, I'm afraid," Marjorie said nonchalantly, "Don't worry, Wynter, I'll take care of him for you,"

"Thanks, I appreciate this, Marjorie," Wynter said, "Next time I come, I promise to have some nice Cowry shells for you."

Marjorie clapped her hands together and bounced on her toes, her face going red in excitement, "Oh! I can hardly wait! Please hurry!" she exclaimed, barely controlling her excitement, much less concealing it.

Outside the bakery, Wynter pulled her hat low over her eyes as she turned to her companions. Sasha hadn't said much the entire time they were in there and now was no exception. She stood with her hands shoved in her pockets, the sea breeze combing through her hair as she glared out at the water. Wynter cleared her throat, "Well, why don't we head back, then? It should be safer, now,"

"I sure hope so," Seras said, "So Wynter, who was Marjorie, anyway?"

Wynter slowed her step so Seras could walk beside her as she pondered how to answer her sister's question, "Marjorie is one of the oldest vampires around," she said, "From what I've been able to decipher on my own by talking to her about it, she was apparently kidnapped by her sire when she was only fourteen. She was turned into a vampire against her will and then raped several times over a period of two or three weeks until a group of hunters finally killed him. They mistook Marjorie for a human girl and made the mistake of bringing her along. Out of pure fear, she slaughtered every single man in the group, believing they all meant her harm just like her sire, when in reality, every one of them probably just wanted to help her. She remained like this for over a century until that vampire she mentioned, Samantha Gray, came across her while she was stalking some barn animals out of desperation. She forced Marjorie into submission and gradually began to rehabilitate her to the life of a proper vampire. Marjorie broke down after telling me that small bit and I don't know what else happened to her over the years, only that she and Samantha are extremely close,"

"That's horrible!" Seras exclaimed in shock, "What about her family? Didn't they do anything?"

Wynter shook her head slowly, "I know nothing about her life before she was taken, Seras. She refused to tell me. I can only assume that it was a nice life and that it pained her to remember it. I'm careful never to mention it to her. Marjorie may look sweet and innocent, but psychological scars run deep and Marjorie's will probably never heal,"

Wynter fell silent after that. She was thinking about her own cloudy past. She could recall nothing of her own family except for Helene. Everything else was hazy and distorted. Sometimes, she saw things she was sure didn't happen. Other times, she saw things she knew had happened but couldn't bring herself to believe. It was all too confusing.

"Wynter," Alucard said suddenly, making her pause, "Hm?"

"Tell me. How long has Anderson been trying to kill you?"

"I'd have to say about four or five, maybe six weeks. Why?"

Alucard frowned thoughtfully, "It seems to me like he's testing for weaknesses. Could it be that he's actually smarter than he looks?"

Wynter sighed, turning and continuing down the busy street, "I really don't care what he's doing. I just wish he'd cut it out before I start getting mad," she growled.

They'd reached the house and gone inside quickly before the sun rose too high in the sky. Soon, it would reach its zenith and by this point, all of Bristol's vampires would have gone to rest, at least until twilight arrived to cool the earth that night.

A/N: I just found out Heinkel is a girl. 0_o Okay then. I wasn't expecting that. But it makes for fun plot twists. I think.


	6. Five

A/N: Here ya go, MarzBarz, Anderson makes his first appearance here! I'm getting the hang of his accent, now. Hooray for reference materials, lol. Anyway, here begins the first part of my long and complex plot. I'm on chapter seventeen, now, I think and I have writer's block big time. Fortunately, I have a ton written ahead of time, so I don't need to worry about it for a little while. Two-hundred some pages isn't too bad, huh? Hehe, I'm having too much fun here.

Five

Far off to the east, situated close to the center of Europe, was Eternal Rome, home of the famous aqueducts, the Roman coliseums and of course, the Vatican where His Holiness the Pope resided. Within the vast corridors and ornate pillars decorating the inner catacombs of the Vatican, a single figure stood leaning against the wall, speaking on a cellular phone. His long, silvery hair was draped over his shoulder and he played with it absently as he listened to this latest report.

"So tell me," this man said, his voice dripping with a slyness akin to a fox, "Have you managed to learn anything else about the vampires rumored to have survived Ruka Arakawa's cruelty?"

"_Noot as o' yet, Maxwell. Ah need more time,_"

Maxwell clenched his fist, "Anderson, I've given you three weeks; plenty of time in my opinion. Tell me, just what have you been doing to waste so much precious time?"

"_Doon't insult meh by saying Ah'm wasting mah time, Maxwell. There's ae factor Ah dinnae count on. It's making mah work rather complicated,_"

Maxwell's eyes narrowed, "Oh? What kind of factor?" he asked, suddenly interested. Anderson sighed heavily on the other end, indicating to Maxwell that the priest was really telling the truth; that he really had been working hard, for Maxwell rarely ever heard him sigh like that for any reason other than fatigue.

"_It turns oot that Arakawa's pride and glory is heading the operation, Maxwell. Ah've been trying tae take her oot o' the picture faur two weeks, noo. Sae faur, nothing, noot ae bloody break. She's aet least half as powerful as her sire, Maxwell,_"

"Hm. Well, that's too bad. Especially with all the effort you and Heinkel have put in, Anderson," Maxwell said, "Shall I send over a small operation to have her..._professionally_ dealt with?" he sneered. Anderson snarled on the other end.

"_Watch yer tone, Maxwell. Doon't forget yer real mission,_"

"Of course, Anderson. You malign me! I'm actually insulted,"

Anderson grumbled under his breath. Maxwell chuckled lightly and sighed, "Very well, I'll give you another week to see how things turn out. Dealing with the Nosferatu himself, I can understand that his fledglings are going to be just as troublesome. Do whatever you must to get this most cumbersome task accomplished, Anderson. _Maggio Dio in paradiso essere con te__**,**_"

"_Amen_," Anderson replied, albeit somewhat grudgingly. Enclosed within a darkened alleyway, Anderson hung up and shook his head with a sigh. Something wasn't right with Maxwell. For too long, he'd been babbling some nonsense about a new world order. Anderson knew how cliché that sounded, but that was just getting down to the nitty-gritty of the matter at hand; he was concerned for Maxwell's sanity.

Back in Rome, Maxwell made his way down the corridor, his conversation with the priest already fading from his mind. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about.

The Vatican was known for many things, such as its collection of beautiful artwork, superb architecture...and sometimes, dark skeletons in the closet. Maxwell paused beside a stature of Gabriel, his majestic horn upraised to salute Heaven with outstretched wings. Maxwell reached out and gently took hold of the horn, slowly pushing it downward and lifting up a hidden door along the wall beside him. He strode forward before the door slid shut again once pressure on the horn was lifted, stepping beneath the heavy stone slab and proceeding forward into the inky blackness as the grating sound of the closing door faded behind him, enclosing him in darkness. Ordinary people would have panicked at the severe lack of light, but Enrico Maxwell knew this passageway too well for that to happen. He tread carelessly, completely sure of his walkway as he quickly made his way into the bowels of the earth below the Vatican. Here, the secret headquarters of Special Section XIII could be found. The one upstairs was only a farce. Here, the real action took place.

He stopped outside a large metal door and reached into his pocket, pulling out an ID card and sliding it across the recognizer. An automatic computerized voice spoke:

_"ID-Card-approved-Archbishop-Enrico-Maxwell,"_

The door slid open and Maxwell stepped inside.

Only one other person was inside the building. A fellow secret member of Section XIII. He was wiry, pale and sickly in appearance. He looked barely on his feet with his hands shoved in his white coat pockets as he stared into two, seven-by-three boxes glowing fluorescent green on the floor before him. Maxwell approached calmly, pausing to stand beside him as he stared down into the open cases.

"Has there been any change?" he asked casually.

The man shook his head, his body trembling from lack of nourishment and sleep. Maxwell eyed him in bewilderment. No one knew the man's real name; he'd appeared at the Vatican one day seeking work as a programmer and bio-engineer. Fortunately for him, Maxwell had had the perfect job in mind for him at the time. Unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, the man refused to give his real name. He just told them to call him Edmond. Edmond, apparently, got so wrapped up in his work, that he often forgot to sleep, eat, and sometimes, relieve himself. Maxwell kept trying to tell himself that it was a mark of a genius to adhere to such eccentricity and so, chose to turn a blind eye.

"N-No, s-s-sir," he stammered. That was another thing. Edmond stuttered, badly, "N-No c-chang-ges in the last t-t-twenty-fo-four hours,"

Maxwell sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I see. That's too bad, Edmond. I had hoped they would be ready soon,"

"Th-Th-They j-just n-need a l-l-little more t-t-time," Edmond babbled.

"I seem to be hearing that quite a bit, lately," Maxwell said ponderously, "Very well then, if perfection requires time, then so be it. I shall give you seventy-two more hours. That should be plenty of time. Of course, if it's not, then please do not hesitate to say so," he said with a leer. Edmond swallowed nervously and nodded, setting to work on the cases. Inside each case was a single human child, roughly seven or eight and identical in appearance, albino skin glowing like stardust in the eerie green light. Suspended in a strange, watery liquid, both had breathing apparatuses fixed to their faces, occasionally expelling tiny bubbles around them as they exhaled. Maxwell knelt beside the first case, the one containing the girl child. He took in each one separately, grinning and feeling the anticipation of his plan tingling through his entire body.

"Soon, my little ones," he purred, "Very soon, I promise you. 'All the kingdoms of the world, shall I give to you, if you will bow down and worship me', said the devil to our Lord, Jesus Christ. Keep that to heart, my little ones, do not let yourselves be tempted by the devil, lest you be swallowed up by his accursed darkness,"

Edmond watched as Maxwell straightened up and left, cackling to himself as he himself allowed the darkness surrounding them to swallow him.

/ooo/

The sun was going down over Bristol. Alucard and Seras stood by the train station talking with Sasha and Wynter, the former of whom stayed a good eight feet away, hand braced against the pistol hidden in her jacket.

Seras whined, "But Wynter, why don't you come back with us? You still have that brooch, right? You can be a part of Hellsing again,"

Wynter placed her hand on her sister's shoulder, "I'm afraid I still have work to finish out here. Marjorie is a frail vampire and needs my help. Don't forget, the Iscariots are wandering this city right now and I'm needed here to help protect the registry. If they got a hold of that information, everyone on it is doomed,"

Seras sighed sadly, "Yes, I know," she mumbled.

"Wynter," Alucard said, "Don't forget about the gun that Walter gave you,"

"Oh, you mean this?" Wynter asked, reaching inside her shawl and pulling out The Jackal II. Alucard started slightly, definitely not expecting to see it, "Did you pull that out of your shawl?" he exclaimed.

"Yes,"

"What else have you got in there?"

Wynter reached back and pull the shawl over her head, flipping it inside out and showing it to him. There was a small assortment of various handguns, throwing knives, rope, matches and even a garrote wire, all sewn into the fabric or stuck inside the lining. Wynter smiled, chuckling, "Pretty much whatever I may need, master," she said cheerfully. She flipped it back and pulled it over her head once more, folding her arms beneath it as though nothing had happened. She replaced The Jackal II and nodded at them, "I guess it's almost time for your train to leave, you two," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Seras mumbled, "I wish you'd come back with us. I mean, we just found you again,"

"I know, but stop worrying. Once I make sure that the registry is secure enough, I'll return to London, all right? In the meantime, we have to make certain that no one can get into the files. I may even have to send a few scouts to Rome to keep an eye on the Vatican in the meantime." Wynter said quietly. Alucard smirked, "Knowing you, _you'll_ be the scout you send," he said knowingly. Wynter smiled sheepishly, "You may be right. I don't trust the Vatican and I don't want to lose anyone to them," she said. Seras's eyes widened in alarm.

"No! You can't go to the Vatican! They'll kill you!" she hissed frantically.

"Seras, you forget exactly how old I am and whose fledgling I am," Wynter said bemusedly. Seras blinked and glanced from her to Alucard. She sighed in defeat and stepped back, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"I'll be fine. I'll bring you back a souvenir from Rome, okay, Seras? Now, I think you two had better get going. It looks like the train is about to board," Wynter said. Alucard turned and Seras followed suit. She made her way onto the platform, but Alucard hung back, glancing back at Wynter curiously. Why was he getting the feeling like this wasn't going to work?

Wynter waved pleasantly and he shook it off as nothing, continuing forward and boarding the train. Seras had already found their seats and was staring out the window at Wynter, still standing on the platform and watching them. Seras felt her insides melting in fear for some reason, but Wynter appeared totally calm. She waved at them and continued to stand there as the train finished boarding and the doors were closed. Soon, the engine roared to life and it slowly began to move down the tracks. Seras got that sinking feeling as she realized it was too late to try to get off the train and again try to persuade Wynter into coming along. As she slowly slipped out of sight as the train picked up speed, Seras sighed and leaned her head against the window.

Alucard watched his apprentice for several minutes before speaking, "Seras," he said, "What do you think of this?"

Seras blinked and looked up and he wondered briefly if she'd even heard him. He repeated his question as patiently as he could. Seras hummed and stared at the floor.

"I don't really know. We found out what we wanted to know...but we can't tell Integra about it," she mumbled.

"We'll tell her that it's under Wynter's supervision, Police-girl," Alucard said, "Except for that, Integra won't have to know that all of the vampires in Bristol are accounted for in a registry," he said. Seras sighed, knowing that he was right. It was their job and she knew that Wynter probably expected this. She looked out the window, hoping to catch one more glimpse of her sister, but in the end, seeing nothing; they were too far away and the station had slipped out of sight. She sighed and closed her eyes, opting to sleep for the long journey home.

/ooo/

That evening, Wynter sat out on the deck with a transfusion bag, not drinking it, but chewing on the end, staring at the water and thinking. The door slid open behind her and Sasha came out carrying a plate with a sandwich and some potato chips on it. She sat down in the chair beside Wynter and popped a chip into her mouth, "So," she said, "What are you thinking about?"

Wynter glanced up, "I'm not thinking, Sasha," she said.

"Yes you are. Come on, Wynter, I know you better than anyone. You're deep in thought about something. Now, the way I see it, it can only be one of three things: A, those people who left today, B, Marjorie and the registry, or C, Anderson and how to evade him completely. So tell me, was I right?"

Wynter chuckled and took a drink of the blood from the bag, making Sasha cringe, "Ugh, you know how much I hate it when you do that," she said, shuddering.

"Sasha, I'm a vampire; it's what I do. Anyway, you're right; I was thinking about Alucard and Seras,"

"Your sire and sister?"

"Yeah. I hadn't seen them in over a year. To you, that's a long time, but Alucard and Seras are vampires, too. It's nothing to them,"

"How did you meet Alucard?" Sasha asked, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"I already told you I have no memories of my human life," Wynter said, "So I don't recall that, naturally. All I do know is that I asked him to turn me so I could get revenge on another vampire, who by the way, I'm now sort of friends with. Oh, and that I used to be a noble,"

"I noticed," Sasha muttered, finishing off her sandwich. Wynter looked at her strangely, frowning, "How did you know?"

Sasha shrugged, starting on her chips, "It's the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, heck, even the way you fight. Everything about you is sheer elegance. It always made me wonder if you'd been of higher rank as a human. It turns out I was right,"

"Natural vampires are actually very elegant creatures, Sasha," Wynter said indignantly.

"I didn't say they weren't. I'm only saying that you have a sort of natural elegance that I don't see in other vampires, not even Marjorie." Sasha put in quickly. Wynter hummed and finished the last of the blood from the bag, setting it on the table beside her, "In any case, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm no longer a noble or a human, my living family members have no idea of my existence, and I'm being hunted down by humans and vampires alike."

"You still have me and I'm not going to betray you, Wynter," Sasha said fiercely, "I won't leave you behind,"

Wynter smiled, "I know you won't, Sasha, and I thank you for it," she said quietly.

They fell silent, just watching the sun setting over the water until it was nothing but an orange streak kissing the horizon. Wynter sighed, "Listen, Sasha, I need you to book us a flight to Rome for tomorrow morning if you can, okay?"

Sasha whirled, spilling her plate across the deck as she leaped to her feet, "Rome! What the hell are we going there for?" she exclaimed.

"After we left the station, Marjorie and I spoke on the phone. She agrees that sending a couple of scouts to Rome is a good idea. The Vatican sent the Iscariots out here, so we need to go out there. After all, turnabout is fair play," Wynter said with a leer.

"But Wynter, that place is crawling with Catholics and vampire hunters! If you go out there, you'll be slaughtered for sure!"

"Stop worrying. Even if I'm attacked, I'll just regenerate. They need to be able to kill me and I doubt that any of them can. In fact, the only one I'm sure would be able to kill me is Anderson. If we can avoid him, we're free,"

"But still, tomorrow morning is pretty close, Wynter, and Rome is a popular tourist destination. It might take me awhile,"

"Whenever you can, Sasha," Wynter said, standing up, "I appreciate everything,"

She wandered inside. Sasha paced for a second, clenched her fists and then groaned, hurrying in after her, "Wynter, wait! We can't! I'm not letting you go to Rome! It's suicide! Send someone else!"

"That's precisely the reason I'm the one who has to go, Sasha," Wynter told her as she sat down in her chair by the opposite window, "It's suicide for any of the others to go in my stead. I'm the only one who could reasonably survive a skirmish with Section XIII and you know it,"

"But Anderson—"

"He isn't infallible, Sasha," Wynter said calmly. Sasha sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging, "Neither are you, Wynter,"

Wynter smiled warmly and clapped her on the shoulder, "You're such a worrier," she said fondly, "Now, why don't you go find those tickets? Get the nearest date you possibly can, okay?"

Sasha nodded and went into the other room to fetch her laptop. Wynter went to the refrigerator for another transfusion bag and pulled it out, opening it up. She was about to go and sit down when the phone rang suddenly. She wandered back over and answered it on the fourth ring, cradling it beneath her chin as she leaned against the wall, "Hello?"

"_Mother! It's me!_" came Simon's frantic voice on the other end. Wynter scowled, "Simon? Did you borrow Marjorie's phone _again_ without asking?"

"_She doesn't mind! Listen, we got trouble! It's the bakery!_"

Wynter felt her mind go numb, the blood bag slipping from her fingers and splattering on the floor as she listened; "_The Iscariots attacked! It wasn't Anderson, but it was two others! Mother, they're burning the bakery!_"

Sasha came back into the room just in time to see Wynter throw on her shoes and rush to the back door, unfurling her wings in a swift, hurried motion. Sasha hurried forward and grabbed her arm, "Wynter's what's wrong?" she cried.

Wynter turned, gripping her shoulders and glaring into her eyes, "Sasha, no matter what happens, stay here! Got it? If anyone comes to the door, don't answer it!"

"But wait, what's happening? Wynter!" Sasha cried as Wynter leaped off the deck and beat her wings viciously, lifting herself high into the sky and wheeling toward the bakery. Sasha watched her disappear into the oncoming gloom and sighed, "Good luck," she whispered.

/ooo/

In another part of town, Anderson was making his way along the streets when he noticed the smoke billowing up from the street over. He frowned concernedly and broke into a run, suddenly nervous for some reason. At the corner, however, he narrowly avoided colliding with two members of Iscariot as they were running in the opposite direction. He grabbed them by the sleeves of their coats, halting them, "Ah'righ, what's going on?" he demanded to know. They looked a little too panicked to be simply taking a nightly stroll. He recognized them; they were two new recruits to Section XIII, Arnold Harris and Douglas McDowell. They didn't meet his gaze, so he knew something was wrong.

"Father Anderson," Arnold said, "We were just trying to solve the problem with those vampires congregating here, that's all," he said. Anderson got a strange sinking feeling at this, "What happened?" he asked.

"We were only trying to scare them into talking!" Douglas exclaimed, "But it sort of...got out of control and..."

Anderson's eyes widened, "What?" he exclaimed as the sirens started to echo all around them. Now he knew what happened and was about to go and see for himself when something caught his eye. He turned just in time to see something soar overhead in the direction of the fire. He wasn't sure what it was, but he'd seen black wings. He growled to himself and completely forgot about the two recruits, hurrying around the corner and toward the burning building.

/ooo/

By the time Wynter touched down, a few dozen people had gathered outside the blazing building. As she approached, the heat became nearly unbearable, but her first thought was of Marjorie and Simon. Feeling her heart pounding, she shoved through the crowds toward the bakery. Several firemen grabbed her and held her back.

"Stay back! It's too dangerous!"

"No! No, let me go! Marjorie! Simon! Marjorie! _Marjorie!_" Wynter screamed desperately, flailing free from them and bolting toward the building. The heat blazed against her skin, trying to force her back. She ignored it and threw herself against the door, shoving it inward as she disappeared inside.

At that moment, Anderson finally reached the inner circle of people gazing in horror at the inferno rising up into the sky, the roar of the flames almost deafening as the firemen struggled to put out the blaze.

"I can't believe someone ran inside that hell-hole!"

"I know! There's no way she's coming out alive!"

Anderson's eyes narrowed at the string of voices speaking in unison around him and approach a man standing a few feet away with his wife.

"Ye there," he called, "Tell meh, what happened just noo?"

The man blinked in surprise, but shook his head, "Some crazy girl just ran inside that building!" he exclaimed, "She went in looking for someone, but all of them are bound to be burnt to a crisp in that blaze!"

Anderson turned back to the flaming structure, starting to creak under the pressure of its own weight. _Doon't bet on it,_ he thought to himself.

Several minutes passed. The crowd grew more and more anxious and the building grew weaker by the second. Anderson found himself watching with baited breath. Fire was a great weakness of vampires. Would they actually make it out? If they didn't, it just meant less work for him in Bristol and he could return sooner. But something deep inside him told him that Alucard's fledgling wouldn't be taken down nearly so easily.

Suddenly, a collective gasp went up through the crowd and several screams could be heard. Anderson's eyes widened when he saw a distorted shape stumble out of the blazing structure just as it began to collapse. He recognized it instantly as Alucard's fledgling, Wynter. She was carrying the small form of a girl, about thirteen or fourteen years of age. She was completely scorched and he could tell from this distance that had she been human, the burns she'd suffered would definitely have killed her. She staggered out and collapsed right there, still holding tightly onto the young girl. Several firemen rushed forward and one threw a blanket around them as he attempted to lift them up. But when he took hold of the blanket, the only thing that he grasped was a large cloud of fog and mist that had suddenly appeared, leaking out from the fibers of the blanket. The fireman frowned in confusion and stood up, whirling around as though searching for the two girls. But they'd simply vanished. While he stood there, confused and trying to sort out what happened, the others set to work putting out the blaze before it spread to the other houses.

Anderson slipped away from the crowd, tracking the two vampires through the night air as they moved. He could see the fog. He assumed that since the smaller one was unconscious, it had been left to the other to transform her body into fog, passing the effect onto her companion.

"Ye won't escape meh," he said with a leer. The fog cloud continued through the air, finally coming to a stop and descending by the sea wall. Anderson grinned, "Noo Ah have ye," he growled. He backed up against the wall, watching from a distance as the dark cloud morphed back into two humanoid shapes. It was just as he thought; it was that fledgling. But up until now, he'd never suspected that little girl in the bakery to be a vampire as well. He watched as the fledgling sat up and moaned in pain. Her skin was completely burned and he could both see and smell it from this distance. Burns like those would kill ordinary humans. The fledgling, Wynter, would simply regenerate completely come morning. She stared at her trembling hands and sighed, turning to her companion. She reached out and shook her gently; "Marjorie, wake up. Marjorie,"

The girl moaned in her state of unconsciousness, but didn't rise. She was far too weak right now. Wynter sighed and got to her feet, only to collapse again seconds later. She leaned back against the sea wall to begin the regeneration process, starting with her dress, which had turned yellow from the heat and was beginning to flake away in tatters. Wynter sighed, "I know you're here. You can approach," she called. Anderson frowned; she'd sensed his presence. He stepped into her line of vision, moving toward them without hesitation. They both knew she was powerless at the moment with such heavy injury. She just watched him as he drew nearer, struggling to remain calm as she sorted out her options in her head. Anderson pulled a single bayonet from the lining of his coat and brandished it in her face, the tip just inches from her right eye. She didn't flinch.

"So," she said, "You're still here. I wasn't expecting you to follow me from the bakery,"

"What _did_ ye expect, vampire? It's mah holy mission tae destroy all vampiric rubbish from this earth,"

Wynter chuckled and then winced in pain, " Ow. Heh, you're just as zealous as ever. So, how do you feel about attacking an injured girl who can't even fight back and defend herself?"

"Yer tricks woon't fool meh, vampire,"

"Who's tricking? If I'd wanted to avoid you, I'd have left Bristol ages ago. In fact-ouch- I was telling Alucard that I enjoy a good fight when the stakes are even. I was kind of hoping you'd have the guts to challenge me to my face,"

"What did ye just say tae meh?" Anderson growled.

"You always attack from behind. You could be fun to fight against. Besides, I'm just like Alucard, not to mention, I'm harmless. There are other vampires out there who like nothing more than to slaughter humans for the sheer thrill of it, thirst or no thirst. Why not save me for a later date? It isn't like I'm going anywhere," she said weakly.

"Why in hell should Ah believe a devil's spawn like ye? Ah could rip ye tae bloody pieces and ye'd never know what hit ye,"

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Wynter said, wincing again, "But I'm hardly in the shape to fight right now...as you can plainly see."

Anderson smirked, "Nice try, vampire," he growled, raising the bayonet to strike. Wynter's eyes flickered slightly and she closed them weakly.

Anderson froze suddenly and scowled, grumbling to himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He answered it on the second vibration, "What is it?" he growled, "Ye know, yer timing could noot be worse, Maxwell,"

"_My apologies. I called to summon you back to Rome immediately. There's something you'll want to see once it's completed, Anderson,_"

"Fine. Ah'll be there, shortly,"

Anderson hung up and glared down at Wynter. She stared right back up at him, face completely blank of all expression.

"Consider yerself lucky, vampire," Anderson told her, "Ah woon't be killing ye taeday."

Wynter smiled weakly, "Much obliged, Mad Priest," she mumbled, "See you next time, then,"

He whirled and stalked off, leaving her there with Marjorie, still unconscious. Wynter sighed in relief and struggled to her feet, moaning in pain as she did. She braced her hand against the sea wall as she felt the burns on her skin slowly receding. She glanced down at Marjorie. The older vampire was safe, not a scratch on her. Wynter had seen to that. Unfortunately, she'd been more concerned for Simon, (who thankfully wasn't in that mess,) and Marjorie, than she'd been for the registry. It was likely completely destroyed; they'd have to start from scratch, now.

"I'm so tired," Wynter whispered, sitting back down and leaning against the sea wall. She opened her eyes and gazed up at the sky, "And this recent escapade with Anderson was a little too close for comfort. He was really going to kill me there, and I can hardly move,"

She closed her eyes again and sighed heavily, allowing herself to begin the slow regeneration process.

/ooo/

Two days following his meeting with Wynter, Anderson was back in Rome and making his way through the vast halls of the Vatican. He usually trusted Maxwell's decisions when it came to dealing with Hellsing, vampires, and the Protestants who often gave them trouble. But this time, he was getting a bad feeling about whatever Maxwell, his former ward, was planning. Maxwell was a slightly mentally disturbed individual. He'd been dropped off at the convent orphanage years before when he was around eleven or twelve years of age. Being abandoned by his family simply because he was the son of a mistress had scarred his psyche to the point of no return. He avoided the other children, most of the adults working there, and often preferred to keep to himself, drawing, writing or planning. Anderson often found him fast asleep beneath a tree out in the yard with stacks of stationary in his lap, all personal assignments written down in a foreign language. Sometimes, he became downright hostile toward the other children, often for no apparent reason. On more than one occasion, the bishop of the time had visited with the grim news that if he acted up any further, they'd no longer be able to support him there. Anderson was, by that point, the only person willing to give Maxwell a chance and he devoted his time to trying to help the boy. Unfortunately, while he did manage to stop Maxwell from tormenting the weaker children, for the most part, his efforts were in vain. Maxwell still grew up bitter and angry, but determined to prove himself. Exactly what he was trying to prove, Anderson had yet to fully figure out. Maxwell was devoted to God, almost to a fault. He was devious and seemingly loyal to no one but His Holiness, the Pope himself. Anderson worried daily about Maxwell's mental health, but he knew that for the moment, all he could do was stand by in the shadows and keep an eye on him. There was nothing else he could do, now.

Anderson proceeded to the statue of Gabriel, opening up the passageway leading into the hidden catacombs of the Vatican sub-levels. He knew this place all-too well. He often came down here for special treatment after having limbs severed in fights with vampiric creatures. Even so many years later, he still didn't understand the full details of this so-called 'God's given technology'. All he knew was that he was the first it was tried on and so far, the only surviving individual. Like with giving Maxwell a chance, there were times nowadays when he wondered if he was truly doing the right thing.

He opened the computerized door with his ID card and stepped inside, spotting Maxwell standing beside two glowing coffin-like cases. Edmond stood a few feet away, typing vigorously on his computer as he input data into whatever crazy experiment they were working on next. In the dim room, the cases threw out an eerie greenish color. Anderson got that bad feeling once again as he approached. Maxwell noticed his arrival and turned, smiling slyly, "Ah, I see you've returned. Well done, Anderson," he said.

"Sae tell meh," Anderson said, "Just what have ye got brewing doown here this time?"

"Patience, my friend," Maxwell said, "Three long years of fruitless labor are about to pay off. See for yourself what I've been doing," he said, sweeping his arm back as he took a step backward. Anderson slowly moved forward to peer into the cases. They were fixed to the floor with iron bolts. Hundreds of cables and wires in varying colors were hooked into them, though he couldn't be sure what they were for. However, what he saw inside the cases made his skin crawl in horror. His eyes widened and he ground his teeth together, whirling to Maxwell, "What's the meanin' o' this? Maxwell!" he roared.

"Calm yourself, Anderson. I'd like you to meet the second generation of regenerative technology," he said, glancing down at the two children enclosed within the cases. The first held the girl, her long white hair rippling ominously around her in the strange liquid. The second held the boy, his hair also white and cropped close to the base of his neck. Both appeared deeply asleep.

Maxwell moved to stand at the head of both cases. He swept his arm over each child, beginning with the boy, "Anderson, allow me to introduce you to Giuseppe, Holy Sword, and Mireille, Holy Shield. These children are the second and third surviving specimens who have received God's divine technology," he exclaimed. Anderson felt his pulse quickening in fury at this, "Maxwell, ye are ae great, daft fool!" he yelled, "What the bloody hell is goin' on in that mind o' yers? What ye've done tae these children is just wrong!"

"That's where you're mistaken, Anderson," Maxwell said, his eyes taking on a strange, fiendish glare, "You see, we've finally discovered why you are the only surviving specimen to receive this unique gift from our Lord in Heaven," he said, moving around the cases with his arms folded behind his back. Anderson watched him carefully, that bad feeling only getting worse. Maxwell paused beside Giuseppe's tank and knelt down, "Do you recall how many lives have been torn asunder by this blessed gift?"

Anderson sighed, "Faur too many, Maxwell," he mumbled. Many of those unfortunate souls had been friends of his. The simple truth was that the process involved of receiving this 'gift' was just too much for the ordinary human body to take. Maxwell nodded slowly, "Precisely. So then, why were you the only human to survive the transformation? It's simple. Your will was absolutely inhuman. It's the only factor that saved you in the end," he said with emphasis, "Believe me, the human-to- regeneration agent metamorphosis process is excruciating and arduous. There's a reason our Lord entrusted this gift to the Vatican and Section XIII. But recently, Edmond and I have made a breakthrough. It seems that children have an incredibly high tolerance to pain, Anderson. A child's will is strong. And so, we have our answer and we have brought Giuseppe and Mireille into being as the next generation of regenerative agents, Anderson. The same technology given to you has been bestowed upon them. As we speak, they are undergoing transformation. They shall have power unrivaled in the world of Section XIII. Anderson, do you understand what this means?"

Anderson couldn't reply. His gaze had fallen to the twin children lying dormant within the cases. Maxwell took his silence for stunned shock or something of the sort. He straightened up and cleared his throat, "Never mind, Anderson. I can see you've been taken by surprise. I shall continue our little talk once the twins have woken up within the next two or three weeks," he said ominously. Anderson fixed him with a suspicious glare and stalked out of the room, horrified and disgusted at what he'd seen. Maxwell watched him leave and shook his head with a sigh, turning to kneel before Mireille, gazing down at her closed eyes with an expression of demonic parental adoration.

"He just doesn't understand, my little ones," he purred, "But soon, he will see exactly how special the two of you are. Just a little while longer. Just a little while longer,"

Outside, Anderson made his way back up to the main hallways, his heart strangely heavy and sick. When he'd reached the vast hallway and left the secret passageway by Gabriel, he walked slowly, staring at the ground. He sighed, "Lord, tell meh where Ah went wrong, wi' him," he muttered. "Where did Ah gae wrong?"

A/N: I'm using Anderson's persona straight from the manga and OVA. The one in the television series is just plain nuts. At least this one appears human. My goal is to actually make him appear more human, you know? I don't know why, but he's kinda become my favorite character. He's fun to write for because I never know what he's going to do to mess around with the script. You know, there was a whole other plotline I started developing and now, it's completely scrapped. Writing is so fun! I love being a writer!


	7. Six

A/N: I decided to update earlier than usual. I just felt like it. I'm working on some L plushies we're going to raffle off at the next anime club meeting, so I need to get back to work and stop slacking off. I only have a week to finish them, lol. Anyway, wish me luck and hope he turns out okay. Because if I can perfect it, my dream is to make an Alucard plushie. Won't that be cute? I know! I can make the whole cast! Okay, now I'm bordering weirdness here. ^_^

Six

Wynter packed a small carry-on bag containing her mended black cloak and white shawl, which she'd started wearing over the cloak as an added protection from the sun. She also stuck a paperback book inside and zipped it shut. She turned to Sasha, standing beside the front door with her own suitcase, a small tote-bag. She looked anxious and Wynter understood why. Sasha was nervous about going to Rome under the current circumstances.

"I really advise against this, Wynter," Sasha muttered as Wynter shouldered her tote-bag. She'd chosen to wear a long, dark brown skirt and white, long-sleeved blouse with her usual sun hat. She placed her hand on Sasha's shoulder and smiled, "Look, we'll only be there for a few days, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," Sasha muttered, "But shouldn't we let Alucard and Seras know we're going, at least?"

"Even if we did, there isn't anything they can do for us if we run into trouble," Wynter said morosely. Sasha stared at the ground, downcast. Wynter squeezed her shoulder and smiled, "Everything's going to be fine, Sasha," she said, "I promise,"

Sasha stared back at her friend, wanting to believe her. She really did want to believe Wynter when she said everything would be all right, but she just couldn't be sure. After all, for a vampire to willingly go to Rome, the capital for all vampire hunters, was either a sign of insanity or of just no longer desiring to live. For Wynter, it was the same as a kamikaze mission. She could easily never return to England.

She watched as Wynter double-checked their belongings to make sure they forgot nothing important. For some reason, Sasha started wondering what kind of god up there had decided to take away her parents because of a vampire and then bring another vampire to seemingly take their place in her heart. What kind of twisted world did they call home, anyway?

"Sasha? Sasha!"

Sasha bolted up, blinking in surprise, "Uh, Wynter?"

"Don't 'uh' me. We have to get going. We need to pay Marjorie a visit first. Our plane leaves in three hours. We have to check and make sure that the fruit stand is safe enough to house the new documents while they're rebuilding the bakery,"

"Right. I lent Marjorie another laptop I was fixing up. It's not as strong and more susceptible to viruses and stuff, but it should do the trick for now," Sasha said, perking up a little bit more at the mention of technology. Wynter beamed and clapped her on the back, "There, that's the Sasha I know and love," she said fondly.

She snatched up their bags and headed for the front door. They'd be taking the bus to the airport and from there, they'd board the plane as inconspicuously as possible. Once in Rome, they had planned to act as sisters on vacation, the elder studying to be an historian and wishing to study the Roman artifacts left behind. With any luck, they'd be permitted to visit the Vatican. If that were the case, Sasha would distract any unwanted guests by wishing to be blessed while Wynter took a look around to see if she could find out any clues as to who set the building on fire and perhaps even a motive for targeting them, besides the obvious reasons. The Iscariot Organization never really focused on a single area unless they were absolutely positive there were vampires present and even then, they never launched full-blown assaults like this in the open in broad daylight on enemy soil. However, if Wynter was caught in the middle of a Vatican infiltration, her chances of survival plummeted.

Wynter and Sasha left the apartment and Wynter locked the door behind them. Then, they made their way down the street toward the fruit stand a few blocks away from where the bakery had once stood. This was where the newly restored data was being refurbished and recompiled into a new hard drive by Marjorie.

As they walked, Sasha noticed a couple of teenage boys across the street giving Wynter the eye. She stifled a giggle and hurried to catch up with her. Wynter noticed Sasha's plight and frowned, "What's so funny?" she asked.

"You're very popular, aren't you?" Sasha teased. Wynter sighed, "Yes, I'm aware of this. Although I'd rather not be as 'popular' as people claim me to be. Besides, if I were to ever look for a companion, he would likely be both mature and a vampire,"

"Why?" Sasha asked, turning away from the boys as they watched them leave.

"Sasha, I'm very old-fashioned. I'm not into the punk-rock and crazy fads that plague today's teenage masses. I'd want to be able to have an intelligent conversation with someone I want to spend a long time with. Aside from that, I can't easily get involved with a human, can I?"

"But why not?" Sasha asked. Wynter's eyes took on a faraway gaze, "How would you feel knowing that you'd stay young forever while your dear one grew old and died right before your eyes?" she asked quietly. Sasha's eyes widened slightly and she looked away, "I never thought of it like that," she mumbled, "But then what about me?"

Wynter sighed and nodded, "I'm afraid it's the same with you, Sasha. The difference is that if a human man loved me enough to want to be with me forever, he might consent to being turned into a vampire. However, I cannot turn you, Sasha. One day, you and I will part and we will never, ever meet again,"

Sasha stared at her friend in alarm, "But tell me, why can't you turn me?" she asked, barely keeping her voice down. She hadn't known this before.

"To put it frankly, Sasha, we're both girls. For some reason, if I bit you, you'd only turn into a ghoul, regardless of whether or not you were a virgin. I don't know why it works this way. No vampire does, not even Alucard."

Sasha hummed, "I don't want to leave you, Wynter," she mumbled. Wynter sighed and stopped, putting her hand on Sasha's shoulder, "Listen, Sasha," she said, "You have a long, long life ahead of you. You'll meet a great man someday, get married, start a family and watch them grow. And I'll be right in the shadows, keeping an eye on your descendants just as I'm doing for you right now, okay? I'll become your family's little skeleton in the closet, the vampire you'll tell your kids about at night. You'll tell them that I'm the vampire who watches over them and keeps them safe while they sleep, and who will someday watch over their children as well, and so on and so forth,"

Sasha seemed a little more convinced, but was still visibly disturbed, "It's just...well, Wynter you...I mean, you did save me, after all," she muttered.

"Actually, Sasha," Wynter said as she started off down the street again, "_You_ saved _me_,"

/ooo/

Aside from the cramped conditions of the fruit stand and its somewhat less-than-roomy back storage area, everyone within it seemed to be doing fine. Simon was up to his usual tricks and, as always, was overjoyed to see Wynter again. This was evident when he tackled her suddenly, knocking them both into the street. While Wynter untangled herself from the zealous youngster, Sasha spoke with Marjorie about the new registry.

"It should be completely restored within the next few weeks," Marjorie explained as she showed Sasha what she had done so far. Sasha studied the figures carefully, Meanwhile, another vampire, Samantha Gray, watched suspiciously. Samantha was an older vampire, though she was younger and more stable than Marjorie was. Samantha had been turned by a vampire who desired to save her life after she was attacked by wolves. Samantha had been forced to choose between her family finding her dead corpse, or becoming a vampire to secretly watch over them, never again to embrace her children. She chose to live and so she became a vampire. Because her sire had been a kind, old vampire, he'd taught her many things before he finally ended his own life after nearly a millennium of existence. Samantha had been stable and wise by the time she found Marjorie and managed to subdue her. But because of what happened to Marjorie, whom she viewed as a daughter, Samantha was now mistrustful of humans. She tolerated Sasha on Marjorie's insistence.

Wynter pushed Simon away and came over to stand by Samantha, "How are you doing?" she asked quietly. Samantha brushed her auburn hair back from her face. She sighed, "I've been better, Wynter," she said. Wynter was one of the few vampires to earn Samantha's trust and respect almost immediately. Because of who Wynter's sire was, many vampires actually distrusted her and avoided her out of fear. Wynter later learned that Alucard's dead fledglings had suffered similar fates and suspected Seras would undergo the same treatment further down the road.

"I want to slaughter them all for what they tried to do to Marjorie," Samantha hissed bitterly. Wynter placed her hand on Samantha's shoulder, "You must stay calm. Remember, we're supposed to be a peaceful settlement, Samantha," she said carefully, "This is the very reason I'm going to Rome,"

Samantha ground her teeth together and clenched her fist, "I just can't stand idly by while you risk your life and while they threaten Marjorie's," she exclaimed.

"You'll just have to," Wynter told her, "You know as well as I that I'm the only one among us who has any chance of surviving a journey to Rome and, of all places, the Vatican. We need an intelligence officer placed there, Samantha. We need to have someone to know ahead of time what the Vatican is planning and hopefully, drive the rats out of our home,"

"I know," Samantha mumbled weakly, "But it's so frustrating. Not all vampires are blood-thirsty murderers. Yes, we drink from humans, but we have no choice. We need the blood," she whispered, "Two hundred years later and I still dislike the taste and the thought of drinking, but I must. Kato understood, so why can't everyone else?"

"Kato? You're speaking of your sire?" Wynter asked. Samantha never spoke of her sire. Like Wynter, she'd loved her master like a father and it had pained her greatly to see him finally pass on. Samantha nodded, "Yes. He understood how little I enjoyed drinking blood. He was kind and patient with me, saying it would take time to get used to it."

Wynter nodded, "I understand, Samantha. My loss of all human emotions and morals helped me through it at first. I suppose I was lucky,"

"Yes. Not being able to remember being human must definitely have helped you in the long run. I'm rather envious," Samantha said with a small smile.

"Don't be," Wynter told her, "I can't remember my mother and father, my home, my friends and even my former fiance. I barely remember my sister and older brother. I do know that his descendants are living in Italy, now, and that my family name has died out, replaced by an Italian name,"

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure. I just know that they managed to retain their noble status,"

Samantha hummed, "I see. At least you were able to keep track of your family. After five years, I could no longer bear the sight of my children and so I abandoned them. I'm ashamed to admit it,"

"That reminds me, how were you turned if you'd had children?" Wynter asked.

"Oh, they weren't mine," Samantha said, "I'm afraid I was sterile. I adopted them when their parents died," Samantha explained. Wynter nodded, "That makes sense," she said, turning back to Sasha and Marjorie, "Well, is it all sorted out?" she asked. Sasha turned around and nodded, "Yup. Marjorie's all set up. The new registry should be completed in a few days and I set up an online account for her to store it in a virtual safe to be on the safe side," she explained. Wynter nodded in approval and sighed, "Well, I guess we should get going. Our plane leaves soon," she said.

She turned to go and fetch their cases.

"Hey!"

Marjorie had stood up and called over to them, looking a little more anxious than normal, "Are you serious, Wynter?"

"About what?" Wynter asked, straightening up and taking her tote bag with her. Marjorie seemed uncomfortable and folded her hands behind her, "Wynter, the Vatican is a dangerous place for us, you know," she said, "You know that you might not make it back,"

Wynter smiled, "Yes, I know," she said, "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Look, we'll stay low in Rome and commute when we have to. It'll be fine,"

Marjorie hummed, but knew better than to argue. Wynter was thinking of the interests of the cabal, only. Her own safety mattered nothing to her at best.

"Listen, Marjorie," Wynter said, "I'm not naïve enough to believe in that old dream of vampires and humans living in harmony. That won't work no matter how we look at it. However, I do want to create a place where we can exist without fear of humans. Right now, that place is the seafaring town of Bristol, England. If I can someday manage to infiltrate the Vatican without being noticed, that dream will be one step closer to being a reality. There will always be those who want to crush our dream, but we'll just keeping fighting them, okay?"

Marjorie sighed and nodded, "Okay. But Wynter, just promise me you'll be careful. Both of you," she said.

"We will, we will. Now, lets' get going, Sasha. If we miss our plane, I'll be irritated,"

She headed off, Sasha hurrying after her. Samantha sighed, shaking her head, "That girl is pretty brave," she said, "Nuts, but brave,"

Marjorie giggled, "Well, sometimes, being nuts is a good thing. It means she's brave enough to handle a job no one else will ever dream of doing. She is right, you know. An intelligence officer placed in the Vatican would do us a world of good. If we can achieve that, we may have it made,"

"I sure hope so," Samantha sighed, watching Wynter and Sasha disappear down the street, "For all our sakes. After all, we're not all evil, and collective blame is wrong, however you look at it. Those of us struggling for a better life in this cabal, we don't deserve the hatred of humans."

"Yes," Marjorie agreed, "But it's going to be difficult. Also, keep in mind that not all of us will actually live to see this dream become reality. It may take decades, even centuries," Marjorie mumbled. She returned to her computer to finish rewriting the registry.

/ooo/

At the airport, Wynter printed their tickets out and they made their way through security and up to the gate. Sasha started complaining about how hungry she was and went off to get something to eat. Wynter was left waiting for them to start boarding.

She jumped when her cell phone began to ring and fumbled through her pocket to answer it. She caught it just before it hit the voice mail and answered it, "Hello? Oh, it's you. How'd you get my number?...oh, that figures. So, why did you call?" she asked, getting up and moving to the window to gaze out at their plane as it unloaded the luggage from the previous flight, "There's no need to worry, you know. I'm fine. Oh, you're not worrying? Yeah, sure, says you," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. She fell silent for a few moments, listening, "Yes, I'm sure I want to do this. It's necessary. After all, if we want to bring this to life, someone has to take a risk...yes, it's got to be me. I wouldn't dream of putting anyone else in my shoes at the moment...well, then what about you? Wouldn't you do the same?...Uh-huh, just as I thought. Hm? No, it's fine. I had a bit of a brush with Anderson after the fire— oh, so you did hear about that, huh? Right. Yes, he was really going to try to kill me, there."

Wynter turned around to look and see if Sasha was returning. There was still no sign of her. She suddenly glanced at the phone in surprise and chuckled, "Well, how about that? I never thought I'd live to see the day. No, as far as I know, he's still in England. With any luck, I can make it to Rome, do what I have to do and be out of there before he returns...yes, I know. Look, whatever you say, I can tell you're worried...yes, I'll be fine. I promise. Oh, it looks like our plane is about to board. I have to find Sasha and we gotta be on it before it takes off. I'll call you when we get there, okay?...yeah, yeah, I know. All right, take care of yourself. Bye," Wynter muttered, hanging up and going to retrieve her tote bag. Fortunately, she didn't have to go and search Sasha out. The podium had sent out a warning that the plane was getting ready to board and Sasha had heard it. She'd managed to snag a soda and a bag of corn chips and rushed up to grab her bag from Wynter, "Whew, just made it," she gasped.

"Barely," Wynter added, "Come on, lets' go,"

"What section are we in?"

"We have seats close to the middle of the plane. We don't want to attract too much attention or deplete our treasury," Wynter said, "And don't forget your role,"

"I know, I know. I'm the younger sister of an historian-to-be and I want to get blessed at the Vatican. I get it. While I'm getting blessed, you sneak in and—mmph!"

Wynter slapped a hand over Sasha's mouth, "Shut up, you idiot! Do you want to announce to the whole world that I'm a vampire planning to sneak into the Vatican!" she hissed in her ear. Sasha shoved her away and grinned, "Aw come on, no one thinks you're a vampire. You're too cute," she said, sipping her soda. Wynter frowned and shook her head with a sigh. Sasha giggled, "See, just like I said!" she chirped.

"Just what do they put in those sodas these days?" Wynter asked. Sasha scowled irritably, "You're just jealous," she said.

"Jealous of what? That I can't have sugar highs?" Wynter grumbled. Sasha blushed and didn't say anything else following that.

/ooo/

Wynter was able to sleep a little on the plane and the sudden jolt as it touched down caused her to bolt awake with a start. She glanced around, seeing people around her begin to pack their things up. She felt up for her hat and noticed it lying in the aisle beside her. She reached down and picked it up, replacing it before turning to Sasha. She was so deeply engrossed with an article in a magazine she'd brought along that she hadn't even noticed the landing. Wynter rolled her eyes and flicked Sasha on the forehead. Sasha jolted up, whirling about in surprise before stopping on Wynter, "What? Are we going down? What is it?"

"We landed, genius," Wynter said bemusedly, standing up. Sasha stood up and stretched, moaning, "Man, how do you do it, Wyn?" she asked.

"Please don't call me that. And how do I do what?"

"Sit for six hours straight without moving?"

"Really, does it take that much thought? But I'm lucky I'm older, Sasha," Wynter said, moving out of the way so Sasha could get out of her seat. She leaned in closer, "If I were younger and less experienced, I would have had to travel inside a coffin filled with soil from Marseilles," she whispered. Sasha blanched and shuddered, "I'm starting to withdraw my original desire to be one of you," she said. Wynter just smiled.

Wynter used some of the money they were given to rent a car from the airport. Once it was brought out and Wynter climbed in the driver's seat, Sasha seemed a little uneasy, "Um, since when do you know how to drive, and a stick-shift no less?" she exclaimed.

"I've got my little secrets, Sasha," Wynter said with a smile, "I have a fake license that Alistair Hayworth made for me. You know, that vampire we hired last year to set up fake ID's and such for the members?"

Sasha seemed to accept this explanation, but she was still nervous. When Wynter started the car, she was able to drive it smoothly as though she'd done it all her life. Sasha was impressed and surprised. She wanted to ask where Wynter learned, but she knew that the Draculina was very protective of her secrets, even ones as simple as where she learned to drive. So, she kept her mouth shut.

"Hey," she said instead, "Why are female vampires called Draculinas?"

"Well," Wynter said, "It's believed that Vlad Tepes II became the first vampire. His title originally belonged to his father. It was Dracul, or 'Dragon'. It was passed to Vlad and became Dracula, meaning 'Son of The Dragon'. That's where the name Dracula comes from. Because of this, a derivative of the name Dracula was created for female vampires,"

"Oh. Hey, if Vlad Tepes really was the first vampire, how did he become one?"

"I don't mean that he was _the_ first. It's more likely that he was the first recorded vampire. No one is really sure how he became a vampire. In fact, a good deal of his history is still cloudy, even to us. There are many, many theories. Vlad...uh, well, Vlad may still be alive, you know," Wynter said, casting a quick glance at Sasha before focusing on the road again, "So if that were the case, you'd think we all would have met him at least once,"

"Do you think you have?" Sasha asked. Wynter cleared her throat, "Yeah, Sasha. I think I may have met him..." she mumbled. She fell silent and Sasha frowned, thinking. That's when it suddenly dawned on her and her eyes widened,

"Wait a second, isn't Alu—" she started to say, but Wynter cut her off.

"Listen, Sasha," she snapped suddenly, "It's a sensitive topic for my kind. I'll tell you about it one of these days, but for now, lets' not speak of it, okay?"

"Sensitive topic?" Sasha repeated, confused. Wynter sighed heavily, "Yeah," she said, "You see...well,...damn it, Sasha, I'm not really supposed to be talking about it,"

"But why not?"

"Because...well, because it's kind of like a family secret," Wynter told her. Sasha frowned, "Is it because it's him?" she asked quietly. Wynter hesitated and then nodded slowly. Sasha hummed, "I guess I kind of see, then," she said, "And it's no wonder they'd want to keep it quiet. If people found out, there'd be mass panic," she said quietly.

"Yeah," Wynter agreed, "That's why we never speak of it. I suppose that's one reason that most vampires avoid me. I was both fortunate and unfortunate at the same time," she said, "But enough of that now. We need to find a place to stay."

"Right. Somewhere not too far away from the Vatican, but a good enough distance that we won't be spotted, right?"

"Right," Wynter said, glancing into the rear-view mirror. She frowned, but said nothing as she reached a small intersection. She paused at the sign and then continued forward again, flipping the turn signal and turning off onto a small dirt road leading further inland. She drove about a quarter mile and then did the same thing again, making a turn back onto the main freeway leading into Rome. Sasha frowned and cast a quick glance in the side mirror. There was a black Sedan behind them, but nothing seriously out of the ordinary.

"Hey, Wynter, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Sasha, get my tote bag, would you?" Wynter asked calmly.

"Huh? But why?"

"Please! Just do it," Wynter said, putting some strain on her words. Sasha reached back and pulled Wynter's bag out from the back of the car.

"Hand me my gun, would you? I forgot to put it in my shawl," Wynter said.

"That reminds me, how the hell did you get all of those weapons on the plane anyway?" Sasha exclaimed. Wynter chuckled. "Simple. Not one of them is made of metal, so the detector picked up nothing," she said, "It's all a matter of acting calm,"

"But what about the Jackal II? It's metal," Sasha asked.

"A mind trick on the attendant. What, didn't you see me hypnotize him?" she asked.

"Uh, no, I didn't. Since when can you hypnotize people?"

Wynter chuckled, taking the gun from her and placing it in the lining of her shawl, "Master taught me how. He can manipulate the minds of humans to better suit what he has to do. Once he makes eye contact with them, it's all over. It's easy for me because I'm a woman. I have a natural flair for it," she joked. She cast a quick, sharp glare back behind them.

" I see," Sasha muttered. She yelled when Wynter suddenly lashed the wheel to the right and sent them flying down another street as she floored the gas pedal. Sasha gripped her seat belt in terror as Wynter suddenly whipped out the Jackal II and, without even looking back, aimed behind her and fired off a single round at the black Sedan. The car swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding the shots as it got back on track, close on their tail. Sasha took several calming breaths and whirled to Wynter, "What's going on?" she screamed.

"We've been tailed since we left the airport, Sasha," Wynter explained as she turned sharply down another main road, causing passerby to stare at this bizarre car chase, "I've been keeping an eye on them."

"Is it Iscariot?" Sasha asked.

"No, I don't think it's Iscariot. I'm pretty sure these are vampires," Wynter said, "Damn it, they must have followed us from England,"

"Vampires? Wait, I thought we were coming to Rome to help vampires!" Sasha exclaimed.

"There are vampires out there who would rather view humans as slaves or as food. They don't want a peaceful existence within human communities like we do; they want to rule the entire human race. I suspect it's Leroy,"

"Who's Leroy?" Sasha asked as Wynter pulled a sharp turn down yet another street. Still, the black Sedan kept up with them.

"He's another vampire from England. He wants to kill Marjorie and get at the registry. He has this really weird ability; if he kills the head of an organization or family or whatever, he can manipulate the minds of his subordinates into believing that he was always the leader. For some reason, they'll completely forget their original leader. If that were to happen to us, it'd be like Marjorie never existed, Sasha. Our group would be done for,"

Sasha chanced a glance back and strained her eyes to see through the tinted windshield. She managed to catch sight of someone in the car with dark brown hair and golden eyes.

Wynter scanned the streets desperately. Fortunately, it was nighttime by now, so there weren't many people out.

"Sasha, unfasten your seat belt and get ready!" she said as she undid her own seat belt. Sasha grabbed the tote bag and her own small case and pulled them up front, just in time to see a large stone building come into view in front of them. She blanched and glanced over at Wynter. She got into a kneeling position on the seat, her hat flying off into the night as she unfurled her wings with a sharp snap and a rush of feathers. Sasha felt her stomach flip all of a sudden, "No way! You're going to crash the car?" she exclaimed. But there was no time. Wynter snatched her around the waist, opening her wings and soaring up into the air. Sasha held onto their case and tote for dear life as Wynter beat her wings powerfully, carrying them high into the sky. There was a sharp whizzing sound by Sasha's ear and she realized with a jolt that it was a bullet.

"They're firing at us! Wynter, we've got to land, now!" she called.

"I know!" Wynter exclaimed as the explosion of the car crashing into the building reached their ears. Sasha screamed as Wynter pulled her wings in, sending them into a plummeting free fall back to the earth. The Draculina landed cat-like on the roof of another building and snatched her cloak out of the tote bag, throwing it on and whipping her hair from beneath both it and the shawl, "Sasha, grab a weapon of some kind," she said, "We need to fight back,"

"But Wynter, who knows how many there are!" Sasha protested, unable to believe how quickly things had gone downhill, "We need to find a safe place!"

"No, _you_ need to find a safe place," Wynter said, "If we were closer to the Vatican, I'd suggest going there, but it's still a few miles away. We'll just have to make do. Here, take my hand and hold on,"

She held her hand out to Sasha, who took not only her hand, but also a good handful of her cloak as well. Without any warning, Wynter leaped off the roof where they'd landed, touching down silently in a small alleyway at the bottom. Wynter slapped a hand over Sasha's mouth and yanked her up against the wall, wrapping a section of her black cloak around her, scowling out toward the street. Sasha struggled against her hold, "What is it?"

"Ssh!" Wynter hissed, pulling her closer. The sound of multiple persons running in their direction met their ears and Sasha immediately fell still, heart pounding.

"Hey!" a voice called out, "Do you see them anywhere?"

"No," another said close by, "But they can't have gotten too far!"

"Well, find them! Don't let them escape!"

Sasha remembered how in movies and books, things like that happened and miraculously, the victims were always passed over by their pursuers. She kept praying that it worked the same way in real life. Unfortunately, fate has a heavy hand in people's lives and it also has a warped sense of humor. One of the men stopped to check the very alley they were hiding in. Before he could sound the alarm, Wynter leaped to her feet and threw her arm around his neck, wrenching him backward. Sasha heard a sharp crunching sound before he hit the ground. When Wynter let go, he didn't move, and his neck lay at a rather grotesque angle.

"You...you killed him!" Sasha whispered in horror. Wynter looked up, face completely blank, "I'm sorry, Sasha, but he was a human. A vampire wouldn't have hesitated to alert his friends; he'd have attacked before we could react. This will work in our favor," she said, dragging her backward and handing her a small handgun.

"How?" Sasha asked, feeling bile rise up into her throat at the memory of Wynter breaking that man's neck.

"They'll smell his blood and come running. But what was a human doing with them, anyway? Hm...maybe they promised they'd turn him," she muttered, pulling out her gun and bracing her finger on the trigger. Sasha shakily raised her own gun, aiming it out toward the street. She missed her usual weapon badly, but she'd forgotten it at home.

"Get ready," Wynter whispered as shadows appeared on the streets from the streetlights.

However, even Wynter was unprepared for what happened. They came from everywhere at once and Wynter whirled in time to shoot one in the shoulder with silver ammunition, briefly stunning him while she pounced and buried her fangs in his throat, virtually ripping his head off. At the same time, Sasha fired off three rounds to the first vampire appearing in the entrance to the alley, oblivious to the others shimmying down the walls toward her. She glanced up just in time to spot them and dove out of the way while Wynter rushed forward and smashed one to the ground with her left wing, stabbing her hand into his chest and tearing his heart out before he could retaliate. She used her other hand to fire two rounds at another attacker, who fell grunting and clutching his chest as the silver seared his insides. By this point, Wynter had gone into a massive blood-lust and without even paying attention, turned and snatched one of the last of them up by the neck, slamming him up against the wall and crushing his throat while he clawed frantically at her hands, struggling to free himself.

"Let me go!" he choked.

"Tell me who you are and who you work for," Wynter demanded, "I may consider letting you live if you cooperate,"

The vampire snarled at her, baring his fangs in defiance. Wynter sighed and closed her fist, slicing through his neck and watching as both his head and his body fell to the ground and slowly dissolved into dust, along with the others she'd dispatched. There was only one more to go. She turned— and her heart about stopped.

The final vampire had Sasha held tightly against him as he watched her. His hand was over her mouth so she couldn't scream and his fangs braced against her neck. He smirked, "So then, what will you do, now?" he asked, "Make one false move and I'll sink my fangs into her soft, tender neck. Even if you kill me, she'll still become a ghoul if she doesn't taste my blood first,"

"What do you want?" Wynter demanded. Sasha grunted something unintelligible through his hand and shook her head furiously. He snarled and brushed his fangs against her skin in warning. Sasha whimpered and started shaking in fear.

"I'll be asking the questions," he snapped, "I want to know who the leader of your ridiculous little cabal in England is."

"You mean you don't know?"

"No, we don't. We've been watching you morons for weeks and all we know is that five vampires stand out, you included. But none of them really present a clear decision to us," he snapped at her. "So, is it you?"

Wynter regarded him coldly, not blinking, not even moving. In the dim light from the street and from a small gust of wind blowing across her cloak, she presented a rather ominous and scary individual. Her eyes blazed in the dark from a hidden, barely controlled fury.

"Yes," she said, "I am the leader of our cabal. I am Wynter, first fledgling vampire of Alucard's blood and the head of the community of English vampires."

Sasha frowned at Wynter, not in disappointment, but in confusion. Wynter wasn't the leader of the cabal; Marjorie was. What was she doing?

The vampire smirked, "Good. Now then, what are you planning to do here in Rome that requires the sending of the leader herself? Honestly, what could be so important that you'd infiltrate the Eternal City and slaughter my men in order to accomplish it?"

"We're planning to destroy Rome, of course," Wynter said, " We've been preparing a special weapon designed specifically to obliterate the Vatican."

Their attacker's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Just what kinda weapon is this?" he wanted to know.

"I'm afraid I don't know that, myself. I've handed the project to our allies in Ireland. I've given them the strictest of orders to show their designs to no one, not even me. I won't know what it is or what it even looks like until it's completed sometime in the near future,"

Sasha suddenly realized what Wynter was doing. She was feeding them false information! But then, she wondered, wouldn't they be smart enough to recognize this? And then wouldn't Wynter be smart enough to know that they'd recognize it? If that were the case, then why was she bothering to tell them all of this?

The vampire holding Sasha smirked, "I see," he said, "You really think I'm stupid, don't you? I was told you might try something like this, well it ain't gonna work! I know you're just a peaceful bunch of sissies who wouldn't bite humans if your puny little lives depended on it! You, hah! Alucard must be so disappointed. It was a total waste of his blood to turn you!"

Wynter's eyes flickered, but she said nothing. The vampire grinned and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a revolver. Wynter's eyes widened as he braced it against Sasha's back, beginning to pull her away into the darkness. Sasha started struggling furiously, but ceased when he shoved the weapon up against her, "Stop squirming, you filthy human. You, weakling, don't try anything funny or she dies! Well, she's dying anyway, but it'll just be that much quicker,"

He started to drag her away. Sasha watched her anxiously, her mouth still covered. But to her surprise, Wynter smirked suddenly, "And right into my trap," she said.

The vampire's eyes widened as the darkness behind him began to swirl and morph erratically, swooning forward to grasp his shoulders and wrap itself around him and Sasha. He snarled viciously as he struggled against it, "God damn it, you used shadow matter to encase this alley!" he shouted.

"Damn right I did. Too bad you were busy grandstanding. What was that you were saying about me being a weakling and a waste of Alucard's blood?"

He glowered at her dangerously and Wynter chuckled, "My apologies, but I don't take insults to my former master lightly. It looks like the tables have turned, right?"

She strode forward, opening her mouth to reveal her razor sharp, blood-stained fangs, "I won't bother to question you. You're not worth the air I'd need to talk with," Wynter said disinterestedly. The vampire's eyes darted about frantically, searching for a way out. His eyes grazed his revolver and he hit on one, final solution. Using the final bit of his strength that the shadow matter slowly cocooning him hadn't sapped yet, he raised the weapon and fired off a single shot— straight into Sasha's back.

Wynter stopped with a sharp gasp as Sasha let out a strangled yelp and slowly fell limply to the ground. Wynter felt as though time had stopped, her power fading as the shadow matter began to recede back toward her, releasing her captive. Once his feet touched the ground, he dropped his weapon and took off running.

Wynter's head snapped up, eyes blazing in a fury indescribable by ordinary, mortal standards. She let out a shrill, unearthly scream and the shadow matter cascaded into the air like a typhoon, spreading up to her shoulder and twisting her very flesh into itself as it rocketed after him, running him down in barely two seconds. He barely had time to scream as he was sucked into the massive black vortex and crushed within its amorphous body, his remains becoming nothing more than energy for the vengeful Draculina. Wynter summoned her shadows, and her soon-to-be familiar back into her body. They swirled into a declining funnel that wound about her neck and then vanished into her skin. Other than the revolver, there was no trace left of the vampire.

Wynter whirled to Sasha and without even thinking, snatched her up into her arms, bolting for the entrance to the alley.

"Doctor...," she gasped, "Have to...find a doctor!"

Sasha was going into shock from blood loss. Wynter felt her life draining away and her anxiety grew by the second. Her incredible speed allowed her to search quickly for any kind of building that looked like it could help. This was an older part of Rome and Wynter realized with a sinking feeling that there might not be any hospitals in the general area. But she dared not fly and risk being seen by any other attackers still lingering in Rome.

"Wyn...ter..." Sasha moaned. Wynter hugged her friend tighter as she moved swiftly down the street, "Hang on, Sasha, I'm getting you help right now!"

It never occurred to her to call for help on the phone. But, as with all things in life fate has a funny way of evening out the experiences for the better, or for the worse. Wynter had crossed into a slightly more modern district and had arrived on a small, suburban road, presumably leading to the country. She noticed a large brick wall surrounding an enormous estate with what appeared to be some kind of convent or abbey situated behind the trees. Wynter was hesitant, but Sasha was in grave danger and that old saying, 'any port in a storm' came to mind. Besides, the worst that could happen was she'd get doused with holy water or something. Nothing against the nuns and priests working there, but she doubted they were really prepared to fend off an attacking vampire.

Swallowing both her pride and her fear, Wynter rushed forward to find the gate locked tightly. She stepped back and threw herself against the gate with enough force to dent one of the bars. The metallic clang made her own ears ring, but she ignored it, "Help!" she screamed, "Please! We need help! Let us in, please! Help us!"

She threw herself against the gate again and again, screaming as loudly as she could for someone to help them. Finally, a light went on inside and Wynter jumped up once, hoping to attract their attention, "Please! We need help! Help us, please!' she shrieked.

To her relief, one of the front doors swung open and a warm light spilled out on the cobblestone pathway, illuminating the darkness. Wynter was thankful for this because her eyes naturally glowed in the dark and the light dimmed this effect. If she could just explain to them that, at the very least, Sasha was a girl she found attacked by robbers in the street, she could get help for her and arrange to meet her later once she'd recovered.

A few people ran out, but Wynter couldn't really make out their appearances through the light shadowing their forms. Two were clearly nuns from the way they were dressed and the third was probably a priest. All three hurried out toward her and one of the nuns made it first, unlocking the bolt and opening the gate to usher her in without hesitation.

"Stop screaming," she said in an English accent, "You're going to wake the children!"

It occurred to Wynter that this convent probably served as some time of orphan's home, now.

"I'm sorry," Wynter said, "But I desperately need help, my friend, she—"

"Hold it righ' there, sister Katherine,"

Wynter felt her blood run cold and her heart start hammering in terror. It dawned on her as she raised her eyes to watch as the priest approached that she might have made a grave mistake in coming here. The minute she looked up, the nun called Katherine gasped sharply and backed away, having seen her eyes. Wynter started shaking from head to toe as he approached, glaring at her in pure anger, "That's nae ordinary visitor we've got here," he hissed. Wynter backed up a step, scowling, "Anderson," she muttered.

A/N: Nothing like a cliffhanger, huh? Hehe. I love them and hate them so much. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Drop me a review if you feel like it. Remember, anything helps, even as a morale booster.


	8. Seven

A/N: And now, the weirdness starts happening. I hope you like it. I'm in the mood for mysteries right now. I'm sitting here listening to the wind howling outside my window. There was a tornado watch for my area, but I think it's passed now. Oooh, it sounds eerie! Enjoy the chapter!

Seven

Anderson glowered at her, clenching his fists angrily, "The nerve," he muttered, "Ae filthy creature like ye has the nerve tae show yer accursed face here?"

Wynter's first instinct was telling her to just get the hell out of there and away from that psycho. But she shook them off and focused on the situation at hand as he drew just a single bayonet from his coat, brandishing it in her face and grinning somewhat demonically while the terrified nuns looked on in disbelief.

"Ah see yer injuries healed quite nicely," he said mockingly.

"Simple burns, nothing more," Wynter countered, "Did you really expect me to die from such petty wounds?"

He chuckled, "O' course noot," he said, "In fact, Ah prefer it this way. Now, Ah get tae butcher ye at full power,"

Wynter's eyes narrowed, "Any other time, I'd accept your challenge," she said, "But right now, I've come here as a last resort; a _severely _by chance, luck of the draw, last resort, Anderson," she said, "We were ambushed by rival vampires in Rome and my friend, Sasha was injured. I came hoping to find someone who can save her,"

Anderson seemed to finally notice that Wynter was still holding Sasha's limp body in her arms and that by some miracle, the girl was still breathing.

"She is human, Anderson," Wynter said insistently, "When we met, she followed me of her own free will. I did nothing to force her along. If I must, I can abandon her completely, anything if it meant her life would be saved,"

"And what makes ye think we'd help ae human who's lost her soul to ae devil such as yerself?"

"I'm telling you, she hasn't! Even if I were able, I'd refuse to change her! Please, Anderson, she's dying!"

The nun called Katherine stepped forward carefully, "Father, I truly feel there is no threat in this particular creature. The girl is in critical condition. If something isn't done to stabilize her soon, she will die right here," she said seriously.

Anderson seemed to consider her words, but once his gaze had trained Wynter again, he felt his blood boiling in barely suppressed anger.

Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, Wynter slowly moved toward sister Katherine and gently offered Sasha to her, "Will you take her for just a moment?" she asked so quietly that Katherine had to strain to hear her. She carefully transferred Sasha to her own arms and watched in bewilderment as Wynter moved back to her previous position. She closed her eyes, seemingly hesitant for some reason and then, got down on her knees before them, "Please," she mumbled, "Please save Sasha,"

Anderson just watched in baffled amazement. Wynter took a shaky breath and Anderson noticed a few drops of blood fall to the cobblestones below her eyes, "I'm begging you," she whispered, "If I have to, I'll allow myself to be killed by your hand, Anderson. You've cut my head off before and I always regenerated. However, you assumed I was exactly like Alucard in that I wouldn't die by piercing my heart. You were wrong; if my heart is stabbed, I will die like any other vampire. If it means saving Sasha, I will give my own life as forfeit. If that's what it'll take for you to try to save her life, then I'll allow you to kill me right here, right now," she choked. By this point, her anxiety for Sasha was so great that she'd started crying in desperation, "Please! I'm begging you! If you want to kill me, then do it already! Just please, save Sasha! Please!" she exclaimed.

Anderson mulled over her words. He was severely tempted to take her up on her offer and end her miserable existence right then and there. But even as he steeled himself to deal the fatal blow, something came back to him. It was the memory of seeing Genevieve the year before, the human persona this vampire had once lived by, returning suddenly to take the place of her missing Draculina counterpart. Back then, he'd wondered and hoped for the first time if it was possible to save a vampire, to somehow reverse the process and restore the humanity to the walking, empty, sinful shell. But now, looking down at this vampire, this proud, wizened Draculina, breaking down in tears before him over the possible death of her human companion, he suddenly felt a twinge of...guilt. It hadn't really occurred to him before now, but the aspect he enjoyed the most about killing vampires was the challenge involved, going head to head against a creature who'd spent decades learning and adapting to human methods. Nowadays, he rarely failed to bring down his targets and with this assurance of skill, he'd begun to enjoy these battles of wit and raw power. Even the weakest of vampires put up some kind of fight before he slaughtered them. But never before had a vampire offered her life to him in exchange for the life of a human, her natural prey. It was unprecedented and for the first time, he really wasn't sure what to do. Deep down, he knew that they were capable of saving the life of that girl and truth be told, he didn't really want to let her die. She was human, after all. This vampire, Alucard's fledgling, was strong, willful and probably one of the most powerful vampires he'd ever fight. No, he wouldn't kill her now. He wanted her to be at full physical and mental strength when he took her down. Otherwise, it just felt wrong.

Anderson sighed and stored the bayonet away in his coat, "Stop yer whimperin'," he growled, "And git tae yer feet like ae proper proud vampire,"

Wynter's head shot up in shock as she stared at him, bloody tears streaming from her eyes as she processed his words. She staggered to her feet and struggled to compose herself, even though it was far too late. Anderson turned to Katherine and the other nun, "Take her inside," he said, "Have her taken care o',"

"Yes, Father," Katherine said, whisking Sasha away toward the main building. Wynter wanted to follow, but she didn't dare. She just watched anxiously until they were out of sight. Anderson stayed put, watching her suspiciously. "Sae what noo?" he muttered, "Doon't tell meh ye plan tae stand there the whole time,"

"I'm not leaving her behind," Wynter said bluntly before gazing off to the side with a sad, faraway glaze in her eyes, "Not unless I have to,"

"Yer ae fool, vampire," Anderson snapped, "Yer pushing yer luck,"

"I know. But Sasha saved me. I can't abandon her," Wynter muttered. Anderson frowned curiously at this, but he didn't press further. He growled to himself and shook his head, "Idiot," he mumbled. He looked up and pointed off to the right, "Ye see that tree doown there ae ways? Ye can stay there faur the time it takes tae heal yer friend," he said, "Yer noot tae move from that patch o' earth, ye understand?" he grumbled.

"You mean...I can stay?" Wynter muttered in surprise, for the first time actually looking him in the eye. Anderson instinctively flinched, but didn't break contact, "Aye," he grumbled, "But yer noot tae set foot inside the home, and yer tae keep tae yerself,"

Wynter considered his conditions and then nodded solemnly, "I understand. Thank you, Father," she said, bowing respectfully. She turned and moved off toward the tree he'd mentioned. He watched her until she reached it and sat down against the trunk to wait out this ordeal. He knew it could take several days for Sasha to recover. Part of his reasoning for this was to test her. If she passed, well, he wasn't sure. He just felt like testing her. But he'd be keeping an eye on her the entire time. With this in mind, he made his way back to the building, casting one final glance back at her as he did. In the shadows beneath the tree, only her blazing red eyes could be seen and as used to vampires as he was, something about her eyes in particular gave him the chills, "Close yer eyes, vampire, before ye scare the children!" he called. Wynter glanced up at him and subsequently, all trace of her melded into the darkness as she closed her eyes. He frowned and then went back inside. After all, he had some work to do now.

/ooo/

Word spread quickly, especially when that word concerns a vampire sitting outside an orphan's home. Fortunately, this news was kept inside the estate itself. The one time Father Reynaldo stopped by for a visit and news report, Wynter sensed his presence long before he actually arrived and flew up into the tree to hide. And thus, Anderson was spared having to approach her in order to warn her.

Wynter kept her promises to his conditions. For the first day, she slipped in and out of consciousness, a trait typical to vampires, who usually passed the days asleep, anyway. The one time Anderson approached her after she'd brought her friend to them, it was to inform Wynter of the girl's condition. They'd managed to remove the bullet with little trouble and it hadn't hit any vital organs, but sister Katherine estimated only a week before Sasha could safely move around. This meant that Wynter would be here for a week. This concerned Anderson greatly, especially with her particular hunger for blood. When he asked her about it, she told him that she could go as long as she needed without blood as long as she didn't move around too much. The only reason he asked was because all vampires were different as far as their hunger went and there was no estimating what amount a vampire would consume. After that, he kept as far away from her as he could, choosing to stand by a window inside the hallway, keeping an eye on her.

One sister, a rather new arrival named Maria Laskey, apparently didn't know what Wynter really was. Twelve hours after Wynter arrived, Anderson was still standing by the window, glaring out at her as she dozed beneath the tree exactly as she'd been when she arrived. Maria casually glanced out the window as she passed and stopped, frowning, "Excuse me, Father, but who is that out there?" she asked.

"Ae guest," he answered blandly. He didn't go into details. Maria glanced from him to Wynter and then back again, "Do you know who she is?" she asked.

"Aye,"

"So...would you tell me?"

"Ah'd rather noot," he answered. Maria rolled her eyes and sighed, "Very well, I'll go ask her myself,"

"Nae," he said calmly, "Just leave her be,"

Maria frowned suspiciously, but didn't press the matter. Perhaps he was just in a quirky mood right then. She'd been told that he could sometimes be like that, and that he was one of their more eccentric priests. She supposed she was seeing it first hand. So, for the time being, she dropped the matter and wandered off, wondering about their strange guest who apparently wasn't allowed inside the building.

Wynter remained motionless on the ground beneath the shade of tree. She didn't want to be touched by the sunlight. She wouldn't die, but she did get rather sick if exposed for too long to the harmful rays. Instead, she spent her time watching the hours slowly pass her by and revisiting the memories of her life. Being a hundred and fifty-three, there were certainly enough of them. She sometimes couldn't help but wonder if she'd been fated to become a fledgling of the most powerful vampire out there. If so, some god up there had a twisted sense of humor.

"Look! Over there! It's the monster!"

"A monster!"

Wynter sighed and closed her eyes. It was a couple of boys from the orphanage. Clearly, they knew a monster when they saw one. She supposed she had Anderson to thank for that. Wynter didn't move, even as they drew nearer and nearer to her. She wondered if they thought they were being sneaky or something. When they were right in front of her, she still didn't move and she vaguely hoped Anderson was watching this, because it would prove how serious she was about trying to save Sasha. She gritted her teeth when the boys started poking her with a stick.

"I think it's dead," one of them said. Wynter cringed inwardly, _'It'? I happen to be a girl, thank you. And yes, I am quite dead, for your information,_ she thought irritably. But she still didn't move. So when the stick was moved to poke her in the eye, she winced visibly and they yelped slightly, backing up a few paces.

"It's alive!"

"But what's it doing here? Wouldn't Father Anderson have killed it already?"

"Maybe he doesn't know it's here,"

"I doubt that. He knows everything!" the first boy exclaimed. Wynter was beginning to find playing somewhat-dead amusing. Though she didn't know what they looked like, these kids were rather cute. They were discussing a seriously dangerous creature like an insect crawling up the wall.

"Do you think it really has fangs?" the first boy asked.

"Are you gonna ask it?" the other replied.

"No way! It'll eat us!"

Wynter resisted the urge to laugh. She most definitely wasn't going to eat them. However, with Anderson as their teacher, good luck convincing them of that.

They poked her again with the stick and she decided to humor them. She opened her eyes, "Can I help you?" she asked calmly. At this, they froze, screamed and took off for the other side of the courtyard. Wynter watched them in bewilderment before shaking her head and settling back again with a sigh, "Humans," she muttered, "Go figure,"

Inside the house, Anderson had actually started chuckling at that scene. He was positive by now that the vampire was going to keep her promise and stay put, which is why he allowed those two to get as close to her as they did, much less poke her continuously with a stick. The Draculina knew that if Sasha was to be healed, she had to stay where she was and keep to herself, just like he'd told her. But still, he wondered if he was taking too big of a risk. After all, she was still a vampire; unpredictable, unknowable, untrustworthy.

Wynter glanced up as the sun began to reach its zenith. Shuddering, she pulled her body underneath her cloak, yanking up the shawl to cover her head and cocooned herself inside to protect herself. Now, she figured she resembled a shapeless black blob sitting on the grass, but she preferred it this way over sun sickness.

As time passed, her body grew heavy from fatigue, but she dared not sleep. Sure, she was safe from her pursuers here, but Anderson was a different matter. She knew he was a man of his word and would heal Sasha simply because she was human. But he never said he wouldn't kill her when she was least aware and vampires tended to be deep sleepers.

Gradually, however, her body won out over her will. Without even noticing, she'd fallen into a deep, fitful sleep within the secure confines of her cloak.

And so passed Wynter's first day waiting for Sasha to recover.

The second day dawned for Wynter after she spent the night keeping her ears trained for any vampire intruders who might still be searching for her. She figured that if Anderson was actually being kind enough to let her sit out in the yard and wait, she might as well try to defend the place at night and return the favor. She dared not leave her spot, but she was able to see and hear quite well, so movement wasn't necessary.

During the day, her movements would have been languid and slow considering the sun's power. The tree was an immense blessing to her. By this point, she'd assumed Anderson was watching her from somewhere. Clearly, he didn't trust her at all. Shouldn't the fact that she hadn't moved an inch for twenty-four hours be proof enough that she was going to adhere to the conditions?

Wynter got a slight change in her favor when the sky began to darken, signaling rain. She stood up then, leaning against the tree to watch the clouds gathering. She figured that the sky would break open sometime that evening. She decided she wouldn't mind a good rain shower.

/ooo/

Following the evening meal, Maria wrapped a bowl of soup up with tin foil and prepared to sneak it out of the kitchen. She knew that their 'guest' hadn't moved the entire time she'd been there, nor had she eaten a thing. Maria was sure she was starving by now and couldn't bring herself to just let her go hungry like that when they had plenty to share.

She managed to get the food out of the kitchen and down the hall, almost to the front door when she was spotted.

"Maria, what dae ye think yer doin?"

Maria winced. She was caught. She turned around to see Anderson approaching, eying her curiously. His gaze fell on the bowl she held and he frowned, "What might that be?" he asked. Maria searched frantically for some kind of excuse, but finally, she gave in and sighed, "Father, I don't like it. That girl you mentioned as a guest of this place has been out there for over a day and I have yet to see anyone offer her anything to eat or drink. She must be starving! I don't understand how you can allow this to go on, Father," Maria exclaimed.

Anderson sighed heavily, "Listen," he said, "Yer intentions are good and God will look doon upon ye with favor. However, ye would be wise noot tae bring oor guest anything,"

"Why not?"

"Even if ye did, she wonnae accept it," he said. They both glanced up at the ceiling as a peal of thunder rumbled through the structure. Maria shuddered, "Oh my, that sounds like an awful storm approaching,"

"Aye, yer quite right," Anderson said, "Bit o' bad luck; most o' the children are afraid o' thunder,"

Maria hummed to herself before suddenly remembering her original mission. She gasped, "Oh! But if it rains, then she'll get soaked! Father, I don't understand your reasoning for keeping her out there, but at least let her come in until the rain stops!" Maria exclaimed. Anderson regarded her seriously, seemingly thinking about something, "Tell meh," he said, "Why is it that ye doon't know aboout her?"

"What? Know what about her?" Maria asked, frowning. Anderson turned and motioned for her to follow him, "This way," he said. Maria hurried after him, her confusion growing by the minute. He led her to the front window he'd been using to keep an eye on her. Now, the rain was coming down in sheets and it was clear from the noise that a bit of hail was mixed in there. Anderson paused by the window, peered out and then stepped back so she could see, "Take ae look," he said. Maria made her way forward and stared out through the glass toward the tree, its form hazy from the rain pelting the earth. She could see the girl standing out there, motionless in the deluge. Instantly, her anger doubled and she whirled to Anderson, "How could you let her stand out there in this? She'll catch her death of something!" she cried.

"Nae, that's noot possible," he said, "She's already deid,"

Maria felt her pulse quicken in sudden anxiety and fear, "W-What was that?"

"Watch her closely, noo," he said. Maria did as she was told, training her eyes on the shadowy form of the girl still standing out there. At first, there wasn't much to see.

"What am I looking for?" she mumbled.

"Just watch and see what she does,"

Maria again focused on the figure out in the rain.

Suddenly, the girl shifted her shoulders back as something large and black folded out from her back, shudder rapidly flinging the water off, and then fold back down again. Once more, she resumed her stock-still position. Maria felt the breath hitch in her throat, "W-What was that?" she stammered, looking up at Anderson in fear, "Were those what I think they were?"

"Aye," he said gravely, "Wings. Maria, Ah tried tae tell ye. That girl oot there is nae longer human. She's ae vampire,"

Maria felt her blood run cold and she again looked out to see the vampire out there. Her limbs began to shake in fear, but she forced it back, steeling her nerves, "I...I still can't just let her stand out there without any protection from the rain. B-Besides," she stuttered, "If lightning were to strike that tree, she could be hurt. I'm going to bring her an umbrella, Father, and you won't be stopping me,"

She stalked off, muttering to herself. Anderson stared after her in empathy. Maria was perfectly suited to being a nun; she felt pity for everything, dead or alive. He decided to let her do as she pleased; if anything happened, he could be out there in a second to help her. Besides, a small part of him did kind of feel sorry for the Draculina, stuck out there in that downpour. He figured that that was why she'd moved away from the tree. If lightning struck, she could be injured. It cost her its protection, but she was a lot smarter than he gave her credit for.

/ooo/

Maria stepped outside and unfolded the umbrella, holding it into the wind as she picked her way down the steps into the flood of rain cascading down to the earth. She slowly made her way through the deluge toward where she knew that tree was. But she felt a strange feeling like she was being watched as she did so and knew that the vampire had spotted her. Maria had no way of knowing where she was and she found her when she suddenly ran into something that barely moved when she hit it. She looked straight up into the eerily blank face of the female vampire staring down at her. The rain had completely drenched her from head to toe, her flowing black hair dripping into her face. Her red eyes blazed into hers suspiciously.

"Yes?" she muttered, her voice barely audible over the din. Maria straightened up, doing her best to compose herself. For some reason, this creature, despite being soaked through to the bone and resembling a drowned cat, still emanated an aura of elegance and control. It was a little intimidating. Maria cleared her throat, "Good evening," she said, "I do apologize for disturbing you, but it's raining rather hard out here," she said clumsily. The vampire's expression didn't change. She just stared her down.

"Yes, it is," she mumbled. As Maria watched, she unfolded her wings again and shuddered them faster than her eye could follow, flinging the water off before folding them back down. Maria vaguely wondered why a vampire had such wings in the first place, but she shook that thought away and offered the umbrella to her. The vampire eyed it warily.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"You mean it isn't obvious?" Maria asked bemusedly, "I apologize. Father Anderson can be rather pigheaded when he wants to be, so I'm told. I suppose I'm seeing that they were right. Vampire or not, no one deserves to be caught in this weather unprotected. Here," she said, handing her the umbrella, "Please take this and at least try to dry off beneath it,"

The vampire looked up at the umbrella and then back down at Maria. To the nun's surprise, she smiled warmly all of a sudden, "You are very kind," she said, "Humans with hearts as soft as yours are very rare, you know. Not many would show such kindness to a creature like me, no matter how good my intentions. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Uh, I'm Maria Laskey," Maria said, somewhat baffled. Was this really a vampire? She talked so elegantly and so politely. She'd always imagined vampires as horrifying, careless monsters. This girl was exactly the opposite of what she'd expected to find when she came out here.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Maria Laskey. Now, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wynter,"

"Wynter? That's an unusual name," Maria said, "Oh! But I'm digressing. Please, take this," she said, handing the umbrella off to her. Wynter held her hand up, pushing it away, "No, you'd be wise to keep it, lest your habit get dirty," she said with a smile, "I'm already soaked through as it is. A few more hours won't harm me in the slightest," this was said with a slight tilt of the head and a light chuckle. Maria watched her for a few moments, concerned, "Are you sure? This rain is only going to get worse, and it's going to get cold" she said.

"Trust me when I say I'll be just fine. I do not feel the cold. Go back inside and please inform Father Anderson that I'll spend the night keeping watch."

"Why would you do that?" Maria asked. Wynter shrugged lightly, "Because he's allowing me to stay here. I want to return the favor," she said, "I know he's been watching me. I have no intention of harming a single living soul while I'm here," she told her.

Maria frowned, but nodded in understanding, "Very well, if you're sure. Um, I do have one more question, though,"

"Of course," Wynter said.

"If you really are a vampire, how are you surviving without...um..." she mumbled, trailing off. Wynter smiled lightly, "I won't feed until I depart from this place. However, should a vampire attack while I'm out here, then I may get a chance for some nourishment," she said lightly. Maria blanched, "When you put it that way, it sounds a little less scary," she said nervously.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Wynter told her, "But please don't worry about me. As for this rain, it's actually a blessing in disguise. It's very difficult for me to groom my wings without help. This rain will wash them clean," she said, extending them outward to their full length so they hung open for the rain to soak through.

"You're very optimistic," Maria remarked in bewilderment. Wynter nodded, "Of course. The Lord works in strange ways, doesn't he? That's how I live; I take it as it comes,"

Here, Maria was surprised, to say the least. How was a vampire able to speak the Lord's name so easily?

"Go back inside," Wynter said, "And sleep peacefully,"

Maria nodded slowly, turning and making her way back to the home. She glanced back several times at Wynter, who never seemed to move. The one time she did that Maria saw, it was to extend her wings back behind her and shake them quickly, flinging more water off like a bird would before aligning them perfectly behind her.

Maria staggered inside and sighed, folding her umbrella down and setting it against the door to dry. She brushed the water from her sleeves, " That umbrella was almost no good," she muttered. She turned as Anderson approached from down the hall, "What did Ah tell ye," he said. Maria rolled her eyes upward, "Yes, yes, I know. I should listen, I know," she muttered. Anderson chuckled and turned away. Maria frowned, "Wait, Father, she told me to tell you something," she said. He turned around at this, suspicion weighing heavily on his mind, "What?"

"She said that she knows you've been watching her and that she won't hurt anyone while she's here. She also says she's going to keep watch during the night for any vampires that might attack. She made it seem as though they are likely to," Maria said, trailing off in worry. Anderson hummed and shrugged, "They migh' at that," he told her, "But there's nothing tae worry aboout,"

Maria sighed, "I sure hope you're right. But I have to say, Wynter seemed very different from vampires I've read about," she said, glancing out the window toward the tree where Wynter still stood with her wings outstretched, "She spoke so kindly and she mentioned the Lord's name so easily. Is she really a vampire, I wonder?"

Anderson felt a stab of shock go through him at Maria's words. The vampire had spoken the Lord's name? Was that even possible?

"Ah'm goin' tae sleep faur ae bit," he said. He was suddenly weary for some reason. Perhaps it was just a little too much, right now.

"All right," Maria said, "I'll go and get sister Katherine and we'll check on the children,"

She left to find Katherine and Anderson made his way up to his own room in the west wing of the home. He had too much to think about at the moment, but it was frustrating enough as it was. Much to his chagrin, he found himself believing that vampire when she assured him she would stay out of trouble. Why? Even _he_ couldn't answer that question. Perhaps this had something to do with what happened the year before. Wynter the vampire had suddenly vanished after getting knocked out. Emerging in her place was the human persona, Genevieve Du Beaumont, the woman who had asked Alucard to turn her into a vampire to avenge her slain family members, and who, in the end, couldn't remember ever being human in the first place. But the more he thought about it, the weirder it seemed. When a human was changed into a vampire, they didn't split into two separate consciousnesses. The human simply became a member of another species. Something wasn't right here, and he'd known this since that very day. But he just couldn't figure it out, so he stopped trying. At least, until now.

He opened the door to his darkened room and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He was slightly ashamed to admit what a mess the place was. Books were everywhere. That was probably his one weakness. Occasionally, he'd go out intending to buy a new book, fiction, non-fiction, whatever, it didn't matter. Usually, one book turned into three or four. He never meant to, but as he'd be heading to go and pay for the one he chose, another one would catch his eye without fail. Without meaning to, he'd accumulated enough books to open a store with. But he just couldn't seem to be able to get rid of any. They were too advanced for many of the children, so donating them to the orphanage's library was pointless. He supposed there were worse habits. At least he learned something with this one. He reached down and gathered up a small armful of books, stacking them neatly on the shelf above the old television set. The reception was terrible and he only ever watched the news anyway, even though it was one of those old sets where you had to continuously play with the antenna to get it to work properly, and even then you were lucky to really see anything.

He yelled in irritation when the bracket holding the shelf up suddenly collapsed off the wall, spilling its contents all across the stand below. He stood there just staring at the bigger cluttered mess before him. This might have been comical if it weren't so damned aggravating.

"Agh, faurget it," he growled. He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring around at the mess. It was nearly pitch black, but by now, the moon had risen outside and cast a faint light through the blinds in the window. Spending so much time in the dark hunting vampires, he could see pretty well with very little light. But right now, he was beginning to feel a little more fatigued than he would have liked. He took off his glasses and lay down with a sigh, closing his eyes and deciding to try to sleep for a little while. After all, if that vampire had decided to keep watch for trouble, perhaps this one time he could allow himself to rest for just a little while. Just an hour or so. Nothing more.

/ooo/

Anderson blinked in surprise, glancing around him suspiciously. Hadn't he just fallen asleep? So then how did he get here in the middle of...a _frozen lake?_ He stared around him warily. He was surrounded by a thick, black fog that seemed to be pulsating, almost like it was alive. The surface upon which he stood appeared to be water frozen in time. It wasn't cold here, but then, if this was some kind of weird dream, he wouldn't feel the cold, right? So then, why did this place feel so...real?

"_Who dares set foot in this place?_"

Anderson whirled. A voice in the fog. He reached into his coat for his bayonets, only to find, to his shock, that he didn't have any! None of his weapons were with him! He was completely defenseless! He took a cautious step backward, scanning the fog for the source of that voice.

"Who's there? Show yerself!" he demanded.

"_How dare you, an intruder, order me? This is my realm, my one true sanctuary! Who goes forth? Speak, or shall face my wrath!_"

Anderson felt his skin crawl. Whatever this was, it wasn't an ordinary dream. Since he had nothing to defend himself with, he decided to play it safe and go along with whoever this was. Perhaps he'd learn where he was and what was going on.

"Mah name is Alexander Anderson," he said calmly, "Tell meh, what is this place?"

" _The space between seconds, the emptiness in a single blink of an eye, pure darkness, where no light shines, mortal,_"

Anderson's confusion grew at this cryptic response. So basically, they were saying that this place was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The voice sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't place it. He couldn't even really tell if the voice was male or female. He turned around, still searching for the voice's source, "Will ye appear?" he asked, "Ah doon't trust what Ah cannae see," he said.

"_An understandable reaction. However, I cannot reveal myself,_"

"And why noot?" he asked, his suspicion increasing by the second.

"_I have no tangible form with which to reveal myself. I am all around, but your eyes are blind to my presence, mortal,_"

Anderson cast his eyes in every direction at her words. In truth, the voice seemed very close, but he still couldn't see where it was coming from. He frowned, humming slightly, "Sae, then, Ah woon't be able tae see ye," he said.

"_That is correct. Your presence in this place was a mistake. I know not how you arrived here, but understand that there is some purpose in it," _

"And what's that?"

"_I need you to take back a single piece of information. Will you take this request?_"

Anderson considered it for a second, "That depends," he said, "What is it?"

"_Just remember a single name, mortal. I shall send you back to your own world." _

The ground around his feet began to swirl slowly, gradually picking up speed. Anderson's eyes widened in alarm as a large black hole opened up beneath him and he started to plummet into its endless depths, hearing the voice speak one last time: "_Remember this name! Bianca!_"

/ooo/

Anderson bolted awake with a yell, sitting up and gasping for air as he glared at the floor around him. The room was bathed in the rays of the morning sun. He squinted in the sudden change in light to his unfocused eyes and fumbled for his glasses on the floor. He'd actually slept through the night. He must have been more exhausted than he thought.

He frowned when he remembered that dream. Of course, he told himself, it was just a dream, nothing more. But then why had it seemed to real?

_Bianca_

That name. For a split second, he recalled that name. It sounded familiar. Where had he heard it before? Wasn't it Italian for white, or pure? He wasn't usually superstitious, but his line of work required him to have an open mind. That wasn't an ordinary dream.

Someone was trying to tell him something.

A/N: Anderson is slowly becoming one of my favorite characters. He's fun to write for. ^_^ Oh, and MarzBarz and I are working on a fun little Hellsing thingamajig you might interesting. I can't believe thingamajig is actually a word. 0_o Anyhow, drop me a review and let me know what you think.


	9. Eight

A/N: At MarzBarz's insistence, I decided to update early for two reasons; one, I'm going out of town tomorrow and won't be back until Sunday and two, well, it's hard to argue with you, MarzBarz, :) So here you go. Enjoy.

Eight

Wynter had curled up beneath her tree, still waiting in the shade and out of the sun. So far, not another word on Sasha's progress. She did her best to fight the anxiety creeping up on her. In the meantime, she also did her best to stay away from the residents of the home. On more than one occasion, some of the older kids had come throwing rather hard objects at her. A rock had struck her just above her right eye. It hadn't really hurt, but it was irritating. However, when she refused to respond to their taunting, they eventually grew bored and left her alone.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Someone was approaching, but she didn't sense any malevolent intention toward her. In fact, from the way they walked, it seemed to her that they didn't even know she was there. She heard the bushes rustling as someone browsed through them. Wynter chanced to open her eyes.

It was a little girl, obviously from the orphanage. Her long brown hair had a single little section tied up on the side of her head, possibly a cowlick she was keeping under control, albeit in a somewhat bizarre fashion. She wore faded pink overalls with a yellow T-shirt beneath it. The expression on her face clearly showed anxiousness for something as she searched through the bushes. Wynter wondered what she was looking for as she watched her out of the corner of her eye. The girl seemed to sense she was being spied on and instinctively turned. She froze up at the sight of Wynter staring at her, but gulped and turned back to her work, doing her best to ignore her. She moaned and brushed her hand across her forehead, squinting up at the sky. It was pretty hot out, after all.

Suddenly, Wynter felt a stab of pity. This little girl was searching for something. Wynter assumed that perhaps a bully had stolen something from her and hidden it in those bushes.

Wynter slowly got to her feet and quietly made her way over, breaking a part of her condition in the process. But what she was seeing now just wasn't right. The child looked up at her approach as Wynter removed her shawl and draped it over her head all of a sudden to shield her from the sun, effectively surrendering her own protection. Without saying a word, or even looking her in the eye, Wynter turned and started searching through the shrubs as well. She didn't really need to ask what she was looking for. If it stood out at all, she'd know. It was likely a toy of some kind.

The girl stared at her in confusion and amazement, "Um," she mumbled, "Are you...are you going to help me?"

Wynter nodded wordlessly, still searching.

"Um," the child said nervously, "T-Thank you,"

She returned to her own patch of shrub and the search continued. Neither one said a word as they worked their way through the dense shrubbery. The child kept glancing at Wynter curiously and somewhat fearfully. The older boys had told her that a vampire had been sitting for two days out by the front gate. No one except for Father Anderson seemed to know why and he wasn't telling anyone. So when Michele and Andrew had stolen her favorite doll, the one her parents had given to her before they died, and claimed to have thrown it in the bushes by said vampire, she'd gotten more than a little terrified, but was too afraid to ask anyone for help. But now, she was starting to rethink her theories. This girl couldn't be a vampire; she was too kind. After all, what kind of vampire gave up their protection from the sun willingly, and then offered to help a human child find a lost toy?

"Um," she called, "Excuse me,"

Wynter paused in her browsing and glanced in the general direction of the child. The girl assumed she'd heard her, but faltered, "Um, well, uh, um, never mind. Uh, any luck?"

Wynter shook her head slowly and returned to looking. However, not five minutes later, her eyes widened suddenly and she gingerly reached further back into the shrubs to grasp what appeared to be some kind of doll. Upon further inspection, she saw that it was a Raggedy Ann doll. She straightened up with her find and approached the child, holding it out. The girl's eyes went wide and she screamed shrilly, "Maggie!" she cried, grasping the doll tight in her arms, "You found her! You— _eek!_" she exclaimed as the doll's head suddenly lolled to the side, almost entirely severed from the neck. The child just stared downcast at her doll, tears welling up in her eyes, "They tore her neck," she muttered, "They did this,"

She started sobbing quietly, hugging the doll, Maggie, close. Wynter blinked slowly and then carefully held out her hand. The little girl looked up in confusion and then gently handed the doll to her. Wynter raised it up to have a better look at it, her fingers carefully grasping the seams between the neck and head. She hummed, "I...I can fix this," she said.

The girl gasped lightly; it was the first time that this person had spoken, "You c-can?" she stammered. Wynter nodded, "Yes, if you will find me a needle and some thread," she mumbled. The child's eyes grew wide with hope for her doll's safety and she nodded exuberantly, "I sure can! Just wait right here! Don't move from this spot!" she cried, turning and dashing off to the home with excitement, _There's no way she can be a vampire! She's far too nice!_ She thought as she ran.

/ooo/

Anderson had just finished scolding two boys for throwing stones at a bird guarding its nest when he caught sight of one of the newer children, Lia, talking to one of the nuns further down the hallway. He was somewhat surprised, and judging from the expression on the old nun's face, so was she. Lia had arrived just a few months before after her parents were killed and she spoke to no one except for her doll that she carried everywhere. She was nearly ten years old, bordering on the years when carrying a doll around was a little young for her. But it was all she had left of her parents. So naturally, her lack of social skills concerned them. But now, to see her talking to someone was astounding. He watched as the nun went into another room and emerged a few minutes later with a small sewing box and a needle wound into a spool of white thread. Lia thanked the old nun and hurried away, supposedly heading back outside. Anderson quickly hurried over and stared after her, "That was Lia," he said, "Ah doon't believe it, she's no' spoken ae word tae any o' us since she arrived,"

"I'm as surprised as you are," the old nun, Bernadette said, "But her request was even more surprising. She asked me for a sewing kit. When I inquired what she wanted it for, she told me that the girl outside was going to fix her doll for her,"

Here, Anderson felt his blood run cold and he turned and ran to the window beside the front door. It was at a bad angle so he quickly opened the door and stepped out, glaring in Wynter's direction. To his shock, he saw that she was still sitting right where she had been for the past two days, but that she now had a raggedy doll in her lap and was busily sewing its head back onto its neck while Lia sat by watching anxiously.

"Are you sure she'll be okay?" he heard Lia say. Wynter nodded slowly. Lia sighed and stared up at the sky, folding her knees up, "I'm happy to hear it. Maggie's my only friend, you know. Well, I guess that isn't true anymore. You're my friend, right?" she said to Wynter with a smile. Wynter paused momentarily, but resumed her work quickly. She nodded once. Lia giggled and sat up in a kneeling position to watch, "Wow, you're really good at sewing. Did your mom teach you?"

"I think so," Wynter said, "I don't remember,"

"Why not?"

From Anderson's point of view, Wynter seemed to freeze up slightly. He strained to hear what she was saying: "It...it was a long time ago; I'm a lot older than I look,"

He frowned. It made sense she'd come up with a generic answer like that. A child wasn't going to understand that the vampire had no memories of her past whatsoever, including where she got the subconscious knowledge of how to sew in the first place. It wasn't an actual memory; it was a task her body recalled on its own from years of practice.

"Oh," Lia said, "I see. My mommy wanted to teach me to knit and stuff, but she never got the chance. She's the one who made Maggie's clothes,"

Wynter hummed, still stitching up the neck. Lia continued to chatter away about things she was interested in, things she wanted to do and her future goals. Anderson leaned against the wall with his arms folded, ready to strike if he had to. That creature had broken her promise to keep to herself, even if it was to help a little girl. He'd bring it up later that night when the children were all asleep. But then, it was pretty impressive that Wynter had gotten Lia to speak so quickly. Lia had barely said two words the entire time she'd been there. In five minutes, maybe less, a _vampire_ of all things had turned her into a little chatterbox. He just couldn't place it. Somehow, this Draculina was different from any other vampire he'd ever come across before. He sighed heavily; like sire, like fledgling, he supposed. He still didn't quite get Alucard, either. But of the two, Wynter was definitely less rowdy and unpredictable.

Finally, Wynter raised the doll up and grazed her sharp teeth against the extra strand of yarn dangling from its neck, snapping it. It was an innocent enough way to cut the yarn, but to Anderson, something about it was a little grotesque. However, Lia didn't seem to care as Wynter handed her the doll and she yanked it into her arms, hugging it for all she was worth, "Maggie! You're all better, now! You were a very good girl!" she exclaimed.

Over on the steps, Anderson shook his head in bewilderment. This wasn't an ordinary vampire. He focused on Wynter as Lia danced around with Maggie, and was surprised to see a small smile gracing her features. It almost seemed like she was...amused by the child's antics. The sight was so unusual, that for just a moment, he was a little unsure. But he shook it off and scowled at her, determined to find out what she was trying to do by breaking the conditions. He stalked back inside. If that vampire was going to be a threat, she'd have attacked someone by now. He couldn't just kill her in broad daylight. It would terrify the others. Besides, he had to admit, he was just a little bit curious about this whole matter. He figured he'd come back that night and figure it out.

/ooo/

Anderson spent the rest of the day brooding over what he'd seen. He thought about asking Lia why she'd approached the vampire in the first place, but he didn't. At the evening meal, Lia finally started talking to one of the sisters. She held up Maggie and showed her the stitching job, "See? You see it? You see it? She did a great job! I can barely see where she sewed Maggie's head back on!" she exclaimed. The sister, whose named was Henrietta, took the doll from Lia to inspect the stitching job. Her eyes widened momentarily, "Well, I must admit, this is a rather impressive mend," she said, "I wouldn't expect this from a vam—uh, I mean, a random stranger you meet," she stammered, correcting herself quickly. Lia didn't know that Wynter really was a vampire.

Across the table, Anderson just watched blankly. Lia took back her doll and hugged it close, pretending to feed it soup. Henrietta gently admonished her for playing at the table and she set Maggie into the empty chair beside her. Some of the other children were giggling at her, but Lia didn't pay any attention.

Anderson sighed and stood up, moving out of the room. This whole thing was just getting too weird.

He made his way to the front window and glanced out. He was somewhat surprised to see that Wynter was on her feet, out from beneath the tree and staring up at the sky, seemingly oblivious to the sun blazing down on her. Even from this distance, he could see that she looked rather agitated. But he couldn't see anything visibly wrong out there, so he shrugged and turned away. It was almost sundown. He'd go out later and question the sudden breach of conditions on her part. After all, he wanted answers.

/ooo/

A quarter moon slowly climbed its way through the inky darkness of the sky above, cooling the earth after the scorching abuse of the Italian sun. Wynter sat outside, facing the brick wall surrounding the grounds. Her eyes were wide and glowing fiery red in the darkness from some sort of edgy feeling she was getting. This feeling didn't improve when she heard him approaching. She didn't turn around as he paused a few feet away.

"Sae," he said, "Ye mind telling meh why ye broke yer agreement?"

Wynter turned slightly, staring at him blankly, "I broke it, yes," she said. Anderson frowned. Well, at least she was honest about it. But then, he'd expected that. Vampires were typically proud creatures.

"I already said," she continued, "I won't hurt anyone here."

She turned back around. For some reason, it seemed like she was trying to get rid of him. Anderson was about to say something when there was a sudden rushing sound, like wind. He glanced around in confusion before it hit him that the noise was coming from Wynter. She was shuddering her wings. Something was aggravating her.

"Don't you sense that?" Wynter hissed.

"What?"

"Listen!" she snapped, leaping to her feet. She unfolded her wings out from beneath the white shawl, glaring off into the darkness and vibrating them rapidly. Anderson took this cue and pulled two bayonets from his coat, staring hard into the darkness beyond the front gate.

"What is it?" he grumbled to her.

"Some kind of aura heading this way," Wynter replied, "I've been sensing it all day, but it hasn't gotten any closer until now."

Something was clearly wandering around the outside of the wall. Wynter started growling warningly, extending her wings outward. There was a faint sound of footsteps from beyond the wall, but neither of them could see who it was. Wynter let out a low, feral snarl in the intruder's direction, snapping her wing joints as she did. Anderson chanced a glance at her and frowned. He'd never seen her get like this before. Whatever was out there clearly had nothing but evil intent on its mind. He stepped forward, holding the bayonets at half arms' length as a warning, "Show yerself!" he called, "Who's there?"

More footsteps and a returning growl to answer Wynter's. But this one was less of a snarl than it was a grumble, almost like whatever it was was backing down.

Suddenly, Wynter lunged forward savagely, letting out a wolfish snarl and baring her fangs into the darkness beyond. But she proceeded no further than that. Anderson was confused as to why she didn't just attack, especially when he was hesitating without knowing exactly what it was. After all, he didn't have night vision like she did and he couldn't be sure whether the intruder was human or not. Of course now, he was pretty certain it was inhuman, but for some reason, Wynter was holding back, her actions sending a clear message to stay away.

Finally, Wynter's body relaxed and she sighed, stepping back and folding her wings down, "It's gone," she said, "But I can't guarantee it'll stay that way,"

Anderson hesitated before replacing his bayonets in his coat. He turned to her sharply, "Sae what was that?" he asked. Wynter seemed reluctant to answer right away.

"I have no idea. It felt familiar, but I can't be sure of what it was, only that it was inhuman," she said, voicing his own beliefs, "It wanted to come in here and attack the people inside. I could somehow tell what it was thinking. It's dangerous, Anderson."

"Ah'm well aware o' that, vampire," he growled, "But doon't think that defending this place gets ye off the hook, understand?"

"Transparently," Wynter said quietly, "I know you don't trust me. But you could at least believe me when I say I won't harm anyone here,"

"Ye're ae vampire; ye're all the same," he said simply, turning around to go back inside. Wynter watched him go, feeling strangely upset and insulted. She sighed and moved back over to the tree, sitting down and relaxing against the trunk, "Is that what you really think, Anderson?" she mumbled as she closed her eyes, "I pity you,"

/ooo/

Two more days passed. Sasha's condition was improving greatly and she could now sit up with little pain. But it was still risky to stand, so she was kept under care by sister Katherine. When she was fully awake and on pain medication, Anderson came by one day to check on her progress.

"Ah see ye're looking better," he remarked when he saw she was sitting up on the cot with sister Katherine sitting beside her in the chair.

"Yes," Sasha answered, "I'm feeling a lot better, but I wish I could see Wynter. Where is she?" she asked.

"She's outside," Anderson answered, "And as much as Ah despise the thought o' it, ye should really thank her. She hasn't left yer side this whole time," he told her somewhat grudgingly. Sasha smiled warmly, "I'm not surprised. She treats me like her little sister, you know," she said, "She treated me like a nuisance when we first met, but she really is like my big sister,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He simply left the room, leaving Sasha to Katherine's care. Katherine shook her head and sighed, "You must forgive him," she told Sasha, "He really can't stand vampires,"

"It's okay. Wynter and I are both used to it. The cabal that we help protect had a difficult time accepting us, namely me,"

"Cabal?" Katherine said, tilting her head in confusion. Sasha nodded, "Yes. Before I go into details, I need to inform you our true motive; we're a peaceful organization dedicated to the safeguarding of fellow peaceful vampiric creatures. We protect the vampires who wish to live anonymously, surviving on the fringes of humanity without detection. We set up lives and identities for them, giving them jobs and places to live. But I have to ask you to keep this to yourself," Sasha said quietly, "I only tell you because I feel I can trust you. What I just said is common knowledge amongst the Iscariots. If I said anything else without being able to trust you, I could endanger everyone,"

Katherine nodded, "You are wise beyond your years. You know better than to trust a random nun you met here," she said with a smile, "However, truth be told, I am a little curious. Whether you trust me or not, vital details are not necessary. Would you tell me about yourselves?" she asked. Sasha considered her request and nodded, "Of course. You _are_ trustworthy," she said. "Our leader keeps track of everyone. She's over three hundred years old, but she's like everyone's mother. If they have problems, they come to her. She, out of all of us wants a peaceful life amongst humans. We have people in the medical field that assist us. They're mixed vampires and humans who run blood drives to acquire food for our vampires. We have people working in cafes who bring the blood out disguised as some kind of juice to random vampiric customers. We have people who deliver the blood to certain households. We even have a complex network of informants across the country of England who bring us news about others seeking our organization. We also have a defensive system headed by Wynter herself to protect us from invaders; hunters, mercenaries and even other vampires. One group in particular has been attacking us mercilessly. His group is the one who injured me. They want to enslave the humans, not coexist with them. Wynter fights them constantly. A good number of the vampires living with us are creatures she spent well over two decades with trapped inside that awful facility. She thinks of them as family and is fiercely protective of them,"

"Facility?" Katherine asked.

Outside the door, Anderson paused just before opening it, having forgotten to tell sister Katherine about the incident a few nights before. He frowned, listening to what Sasha was saying. Sasha nodded sadly, "Yes. Wynter was captured and stolen away from her master when she was still a new vampire. She told me all this before, but I don't think about it very much, nor do I mention it. It just upsets her. She was taken away to this facility where she was tortured and experimented on, and from what I understand, apparently modified in some way. She told me that many of the vampires were young children who had been changed using her own DNA. Because of this, she feels a strong bond with them akin to that of a parent. Oh, I'd hate to think of what would happen if one of these vampires turned on Wynter. I don't think she'd be able to bring herself to destroy it like the others,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed in slight suspicion and sudden fearful inspiration. Wynter's hesitation to attack that creature the other night came to mind all of a sudden. Could that creature have been one of the vampires she lived with in Arakawa's facility? If that were the case, then they might have a problem on their hands, especially if Sasha was telling the truth.

He glanced up as a peal of thunder rolled across the sky, rumbling the structure of the building. He sighed. Not another storm. He doubted that Wynter was all that thrilled about it, either. After all, she was stuck outside in it. As much as he disliked the idea, he considered perhaps giving her an umbrella before the storm hit.

As he wrestled with whether or not to actually do it, his phone rang. He was grateful for it at first, that is, until he heard the voice on the other end.

"_Ah, good evening, Anderson,_"

"Maxwell," he said, "Tae what dae Ah owe the call?"

"_A truly momentous occasion. Giuseppe and Mireille have awakened!_" Maxwell exclaimed. Anderson furrowed his brow and closed his eyes, "Ye doon't say?" he forced out.

"_Of course, they aren't ready for conditioning quite yet. A few more days of rest and Edmond will begin the process,_"

"Ah'm familiar," Anderson growled, glancing away uncomfortably.

"_You really must come by and see them before they become fit for duty, Anderson. After all, you will have the most effect on their development,_"

Anderson grew suddenly morosely anticipative. Just what did Maxwell mean by that?

"Tell meh, Maxwell, just what are ye planning with those two?" he asked.

"_I'm afraid I'm still working out the details. However, when the twins begin their first training session, I'll be sure to let you know first thing,_" he said in a voice that was anything but reassuring. Anderson hummed as Maxwell hung up. He put his phone back into his pocket and continued down the hall. It was already evening. Since the incident, Wynter had taken to leaving her post at night to patrol the grounds. He'd often look out his window and see her shadowy form and blazing red eyes piercing the darkness as she moved about outside. His instinct to kill vampires on sight always made him twitch in preparation for battle whenever he caught a glimpse of her walking around out there. But he always managed to stay calm, telling himself what was really out there. He still couldn't believe he was harboring a vampire. Was he losing it? Maybe he'd fought the damned things one too many times. He paused, pondering this. He shook his head. No way, he wasn't losing it. He couldn't be.

Right?

/ooo/

The sun had nearly set. All that remained of its scorching glory was a faint glow on the western horizon. Anderson stood by the window again, keeping an eye on Wynter. She was starting to wake up after sleeping most of the day. He could see her eyes open, staring ahead blearily.

By now, all of the children were in bed and sound asleep. The only ones remaining awake were the nuns and a few other priests occupying the building. With everyone on guard and with Anderson's barriers up in several places, the nighttime was usually a relatively safe time for them. But tonight, he felt uneasy, restless. He had that feeling he got right before a confrontation. But this time, he knew it wasn't a good thing. Movement to his left outside caught his eye. Wynter had suddenly lunged to her feet, wings outstretched and glaring off into the darkness. That's when he knew that his intuition was right; that creature had returned. He rushed to the door and opened it, stepping outside where he could see everything, but whatever was out there couldn't see him.

Wynter snarled viciously and bared her fangs, "Show yourself," she hissed.

Anderson watched as not one, but two vampires entered through the main gate. It hit him like an earthquake that he'd forgotten to set up barriers there. He mentally cursed himself as two vampiric creatures moved toward Wynter, who gasped sharply and backed up. They looked about seventeen years of age, fraternal twins who, like Wynter, sported pairs of wings. The only difference was that while hers were feathered like a bird's, theirs were leathery like bats. One girl had short platinum blond hair while her sister had slightly longer light brown hair. They each wore solid black outfits covered in some kind of metallic armor on their chests, shoulders, knees and arms. The blond one sneered at Wynter as she unfolded her great bat-wings, "So, it's you. When they told us their prey was hiding out at this convent, we never expected to find you here, Wynter," she said slyly.

"Dorcas...Harriet..." Wynter whispered in a broken voice, "What do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea who you're working for!" she exclaimed.

"Shut up!" the blond one, Dorcas yelled, "Who are you to lecture us? Honestly, trying to save humans after what they did to us? What they did to you? Think back, Wynter, to the time when you were held captive! Think of the pain they put you through in the name of science! There are three powerful human drugs out there that only exist because you served as their lab rat during their testing periods!"

"Harriet," Wynter said, turning to the brunette, "Why are you two doing this? You're serving our enemies!"

The brunette vampire cringed slightly, but shook her head, scowling, "Don't try to use any of your dirty tricks!" she snapped in a somewhat less intimidating voice than her sister, "My sister and I followed them willingly! They're going to free us from those wretched humans!"

Wynter's eyes flashed in anger, "Don't forget that you two were human once. You only exist as you are because of me. Please don't force me to fight you!"

Anderson realized with a jolt that these two girls were creations formed from humans with Wynter's DNA. It seemed they'd joined the organization trying to thwart Wynter's plans in Bristol. But what were they seeking here?

"Noble talk coming from a vampire who knocks out humans before she bites them," Dorcas taunted, "A hundred and fifty-four years and you're still the same, Wynter; soft!"

Wynter snarled suddenly, causing them to flinch back, "A hundred and two years have done you absolutely nothing, Dorcas. You haven't changed, still the same heartless monster I did everything in my power to keep you from becoming!" Wynter snapped.

Dorcas just smirked with a a shrug, "Believe whatever you want, you miserable excuse of a Nosferatu. But enough chit chat. It's time we got down to business,"

"What do you mean?" Wynter asked suspiciously. Dorcas raised her hand and cracked her joints, "Simple. Leroy may be dead, but his orders still stand under our many superiors. We're to destroy this convent for daring to house a traitor like you and we're to take you back with us to face judgment,"

Anderson immediately reacted, brandishing forth two bayonets before you could blink. However, he didn't react fast enough. Faster than the eye could follow, Wynter's arm morphed into shadow matter, swarming forward in hundreds of dark tendrils and snatching Dorcas and Harriet in its inescapable grasp, slamming them up against the wall where they struggled furiously to free themselves. Wynter stood motionless save for her writhing arm, "I don't think so, you two," she growled.

But Dorcas wasn't finished yet. She reached back behind her, pulling a large knife from a sheath she had attached to her back. She sliced downward at Wynter's shadow matter, severing it in two and freeing herself and her sister. Wynter's eyes widened as they both came at her from two separate directions. She unfurled her wings and took a quick swipe backwards, flinging Dorcas back several feet, but missing Harriet who lunged toward her, slicing open her shoulder with her own knife. Wynter cried out in pain as her wound began to smolder and she staggered back, clutching her arm, "Silver knives!" she exclaimed, "Where the hell did you get those things?"

"The organization gave them to us!" Dorcas said, bolting forward and burying the knife in Wynter's back. She scowled, squeezing her eyes shut as she pulled herself off the knife, vaulting forward and turning to face them both. Anderson watched as she made to reach into her shawl for a weapon and then stopped suddenly, grimacing. She looked up just in time to see Harriet as she pounced toward her, slashing the knife at her face. Wynter ducked, straightened and grabbed Harriet's arm, flinging her across the ground where she rolled to a stop a few meters away, the wind knocked out of her.

"Hah!" Dorcas crowed, "You can't defend both yourself and this place. I don't know why you're protecting the very people who seek your life, but you can't hold out forever!"

Her outstretched hand began to glow erratically, a tongue of flame slowly developing in the palm of her hand. As she focused her energy, it grew bigger and brighter. Wynter bolted toward her and threw herself against the other vampire, knocking her to the ground and extinguishing the flame just as Harriet unleashed some kind of whip that had been wound about her right arm. This lashing cord wrapped around Wynter's neck and Harriet tugged hard, yanking Wynter back and throwing her to the ground. A sharp cracking sound was heard and Wynter didn't move, though her eyes shifted rapidly in their sockets. To a human, a broken neck was usually fatal. To a vampire like Wynter, regeneration was required, but as she lay there nearly helpless, she realized she might not have the time.

Dorcas approached, chuckling as Wynter began to heal her neck, "Damn, you sure didn't put up much of a fight," she commented, "Right, Harriet?"

The other vampire seemed highly uncomfortable, but nodded, "Uh, r-right, sis," she stammered, "Um, hey Wynter, I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"

Dorcas stalked over and slapped her sharply across the face, "You idiot! She's the enemy! Don't inquire on her welfare!" she yelled. She whirled and turned back to Wynter who was rushing her regeneration as quickly as she could. She raised her eyes to look up at Dorcas with an almost dejected glaze, "You two aren't strong," she said.

"What?" Dorcas growled, her eyes widening. Wynter sighed, "You're the same as ever. Even when I first took you in under my protection, you always desired revenge above all else. I understood your pain, Dorcas. Thirst for vengeance made me what I am today. But because you're so hungry for revenge against the humans who did this to you and Harriet, you're blind to how truly weak you are,"

Dorcas's left eye started twitching madly, "You...how dare you...?"

"I'm not asking you to join us, Dorcas, Harriet. I'm just warning you that you might want to escape that organization while you still can. They won't have use for vampires as weak as you are once this whole thing is over with. They'll kill you," she grunted, slowly raising herself up as she nearly finished her healing. But Dorcas had had enough, "That's it!" she shrieked, reaching down and grasping Wynter's hair, dragging her up to stare down at her in the eye, "You dare to lecture us when you're even weaker than we are! You barely put up a fight! You avoided and evaded all of our attacks! Save for that pathetic shadow matter, you didn't even try to hurt us!"

She threw Wynter back down, raised her knife and hurled it into Wynter's neck. Wynter flinched, but didn't make a sound. Dorcas made a noise of disgust, "Damn freak," she hissed, "Harriet, get over here. Who cares if this place is destroyed or not? We can't let her get away with calling us weak,"

"We can't?"

Dorcas threw a vicious glare at her sister, "Of course we can't! Just because she raised us doesn't mean she can insult us!"

"I don't think—" Harriet started to say, her hands shaking. Dorcas cut her off sharply;

"Now, since we were ordered to at least defeat you, we get to take away a prize. How about your wings?"

Here, Wynter began to fight a little, trying to sit back up as Dorcas forced her down, pulling her knife from Wynter's neck and using it to slice several angry gashed into Wynter's arms, causing her nearly blinding pain as they smoldered and singed away her flesh.

"Harriet, hold her down," Dorcas commanded as she grabbed Wynter's right wing. Wynter struggled only slightly as Dorcas tugged hard three times, yanking feathers out as she did before finally, a single, full-blown ripping motion of her arm tore the wing clean from the joint at the shoulder. This time, Wynter actually cried out in pain before collapsing on the ground, having seemingly blacked out. Dorcas smirked, "Damn, you really are weak, aren't you? Can't believe everyone in the facility was so terrified of you," she sneered as she did the same to the other wing, tearing it clean from the joint and throwing it to the ground beside its partner. She released Wynter then, moving to collect one of the wings and leaving the other for Harriet, "What a weakling. Harriet, get the other one; we're going,"

She hurried toward the main gate, spreading her wings and taking to the sky. Harriet gathered up the other wing and cast a glance back at Wynter, lying motionless on the ground, "I'm sorry, Wynter," she mumbled, "Please don't hate me,"

"I...don't, Harriet," Wynter's voice came back weakly. "Go on...your sister is waiting..."

Harriet turned away and beat her wings as she ran, following her sister into the sky and slowly disappearing from sight. Again, thunder pealed across the sky, shaking the ground. The coming storm had impeccable timing.

Anderson couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. Had Wynter lost? Had she really been defeated? But then, from what he'd seen, she hadn't really been putting her all into that fight. She'd clearly been holding back.

He carefully made his way down the steps and over to where she still lay on the ground, unmoving. He knelt down beside her, watching her, "Are ye all right?" he asked.

Wynter didn't move, "Fine," she muttered ruefully, "Distressed, broken, and humiliated, but fine,"

He chuckled dryly, "Sae, were they right?"

"About what?"

"About ye being sae weak?"

"Right at the moment, yes," she mumbled, "I wasn't about to hurt them,"

He sighed heavily and shook his head, "Ye're ae damn fool, vampire," he snapped, "They went an' ripped yer wings off!"

Wynter began to struggle to sit up, wincing as she moved the torn wing joints at her shoulders. They bled profusely down her cloak and she sighed, "I know. I couldn't hurt them," she replied, "I practically raised them,"

She staggered to her feet and moved off a short ways. Anderson straightened up and glared at her, "Sae what noo?" he asked, "Are ye going tae chase after them?"

"No, I'm not. They were only following orders. I prevented them from destroying this place and they got proof that they defeated me. They won't be back, Anderson," Wynter said. She turned back slightly, giving him the evil eye, "By the way, Anderson, you'd better appreciate this sacrifice. My wings won't regenerate," she growled.

"What?"

"I'm capable of growing them back, but it will take roughly three, painful months," she said, turning away and facing the wall. She pulled the stubs of her wings beneath her shawl and returned to her tree, sitting down and absently leaning against the trunk. She hissed and shot forward, scowling as she remembered. She shifted to the side and relaxed sideways against the bark, closing her eyes.

/ooo/

Wynter didn't move for the rest of the three days that Sasha spent recovering. To Anderson, it looked like she'd slipped into some kind of torpor. Even when the other children approached her out of curiosity, she never moved once. Obviously, the loss of her wings put a damper on her psyche. Once again, Maria had started to worry about her.

"I can't help it," she protested in her defense, "Seeing her like that makes me think that the fight might have injured her elsewhere,"

Anderson had told her about the fight after Maria pestered him nonstop for reasons why Wynter was behaving so strangely.

"She's fine, Maria," Anderson continued to say. But Maria went out there every day trying to awaken her. A couple of times, she succeeded, but Wynter didn't seem to recognize her. Both times, she simply opened her eyes, looked around blearily and then returned to sleep without a word. It took a little while, but Anderson had finally realized that she was just conserving her energy for growing new wings, if such a thing was really possible.

Now, he watched as Maria came back inside and shut the door with a heavy sigh, "Nothing," she muttered.

"What did Ah tell ye?" he said, "Listen, Maria, Ah've said it before, Ah'll probably say it again; ye've got ae good heart and God will reward ye faur this. But ae vampire is still ae vampire,"

Maria frowned, "Father Anderson, I'm sorry, but she's also a living creature and she's clearly in pain. I don't know what she said to you to make you believe she's fine, but she's not. When I went out there this time, she was whimpering in her sleep,"

"Vampires doon't feel pain, Maria, unless special weapons are used,"

"I don't understand why it's true, then," Maria countered, "But it no longer matters what she is or isn't, now. To me, all that matters is that she's hurting and I'm going to try to help her," she snapped, whirling and stalking off in anger. Again, Anderson was amazed at how perfect she was for the role of a sister. He glanced out the window again. Wynter was curled into a ball against the tree, seemingly asleep. But something wasn't right. He turned, headed for the door and stepped outside, making his way over curiously. Staring down at her, he noticed that Maria was right; Wynter did appear to be in pain. Her features were contorted and she seemed to be shivering. He didn't get it. Wynter was just like Alucard, in that she could restore any part of her body that was cut off within seconds. Add this to the fact that it never seemed to hurt her at all. But her wings get ripped off and suddenly, this happens, whatever it is. Why was this happening now? What was so different about her wings? And more importantly, why couldn't she just regenerate them in seconds instead of having to grow them back from scratch?

Wynter pulled deeper into her cloak and grimaced in her sleep; "Who...is...," she mumbled. He frowned. She was talking in her sleep; "Who...Bianca...?"

Startled, he took a step back, staring down at her in shock. There was that name again! But this time, whoever it was was interfering with the dreams of this vampire.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" he muttered.

/ooo/

On the seventh day, Sasha was finally deemed well enough to leave. Katherine gave her strict instructions not to do any heavy lifting or walk too much in order to give the wound time to heal. Sasha readily agreed and then followed Anderson back out to the front.

"I sure hope Wynter isn't too angry that she had to wait so long," she said pleasantly.

"Ah doon't think ye'll be disappointed," Anderson grumbled.

"You didn't bother her, did you?" Sasha asked irritably. Anderson just sighed and shook his head. Sasha hummed, "Maybe she was right; as long as you keep your promises, you're insane, but trustworthy," she said. He glanced back at her in bewilderment, "What?"

"Oh nothing," Sasha chimed.

Outside, Wynter had managed to regain her footing, though it was clear she was still in pain. Sasha's eyes widened, "Wyn!" she yelled, hurrying forward and tackling her friend.

"Sasha! I told you to stop calling me that!" Wynter exclaimed.

"But I missed you! Anderson wouldn't let you in to see me!" Sasha cried.

"Get off!" Wynter snapped. Sasha let go, giggling, having mistaken Wynter's outburst for anger when in reality, it was pain. Sasha had aggravated Wynter's injuries. Sasha sighed, "Man, you're so unsocial," she said.

"Like that's a bad thing? Sasha, I'm a vampire for Pete's sake!" Wynter growled. Sasha danced out of her reach, cackling madly. Wynter sighed, her shoulders sagging. Anderson made his way over and glared down at her, "Sae then, ye're going?" he said.

"Yup. I know you can't be rid of me quickly enough," Wynter grumbled.

"Ah dinnae say that. Ah suppose Ah owe ye thanks for what ye did," he growled, "But doon't think that means Ah'll go easy on ye next time,"

"Oh, if you did, I'd be insulted," she said slyly, "If you don't take me seriously, then I'll be the one killing you, Anderson,"

She paused, glancing over at Sasha standing by the gate and talking on her cell phone. She hummed, "I think I should return to Hellsing. Alucard will want to be warned of these vampires," she said, "Aside from that, Anderson, here's the deal. I now owe you a debt for healing my friend,"

"Ye doon't owe me anything. Ah just want ye oot," he said.

"I understand that. However, you know I'm a vampire. And I am a very proud vampire. This debt is my thanks on a code of honor for my kind. You're permitted to request anything in my power to accomplish or to obtain. However, you cannot ask for mine or Sasha's lives outright."

"Why is that?"

"It kind of defeats the purpose of a debt given in gratitude, don't you think?" Wynter said dryly. He nodded slowly, glancing off, "Ye have ae point,"

"Exactly. So, think on it for a while and the next time we meet, hopefully you'll have decided, then." she said, turning around and heading for the gate. She stopped suddenly, "Oh! Anderson, please tell Lia I said goodbye,"

Anderson was more than a little surprised at this, but he nodded slightly. Wynter actually smiled cheerfully and joined Sasha as they left, Sasha chattering away and Wynter just listening. Anderson watched them go for a few minutes. Finally, he turned and headed back inside, wondering whether or not she was really serious.

/ooo/

They'd missed their original flight and Sasha called the airline and made up some crazy excuse as to why they couldn't use their tickets, asking if they could get another set to England for half-price. Wynter was stunned that they'd actually bought that garbage Sasha sobbed into the phone.

Their luggage was destroyed so they went back with nothing. Wynter and Sasha had to take a taxi to the airport to avoid any other vampires lurking about. Wynter was silent for most of the way, thinking about the loss of her wings and about the past week. She couldn't believe that Harriet and Dorcas had turned on her, after everything she'd done for them. They were like daughters to her. She thought of Maria, the kind nun who had taken pity on her when her wings were torn off. She thought of Lia, the sweet little girl who was searching for her doll. Finally, she thought of Anderson, the weird vampire hunter who could be somewhat kindhearted one minute and a murderous psycho the next. And now, to top things off, she was indebted to him for saving Sasha. Actually, she'd kind of lied. He could very well have asked for her life if it came to that. But Wynter didn't really want to die if she didn't have to. There was a loophole to this request, though. If he really wanted to kill her that badly, he'd figure it out before too long. She was sure of it.

"Hey, Wyn?" Sasha said.

"Please stop calling me that,"

"Hey, what's with that stain on your cloak, huh?"

Wynter blanched. She'd forgotten how much she'd bled when her wings were ripped off! The bloodstain was still there, but not very noticeable because of the dark color of her cloak. She turned so that it couldn't be seen. She smiled and laughed, "What stain? I think maybe those pain medications they had you on were a little too strong, Sasha," she said, doing her best to sound convincing. Sasha frowned suspiciously, but hummed, gazing out her window. Wynter sighed and looked out her own window. Once they got back to Bristol, she'd break the news to Sasha. They were going to have to return to Hellsing. A strong army of malevolent vampires was forming and they'd want to be warned. That, and it just wasn't safe in Bristol anymore.

It was depressing. Wynter would be sad to leave it, but she had to do what was best for the cabal. If Leroy's gang believed that Wynter had gone back to Hellsing, they'd chase her. She was the most powerful, so it was only natural that she was their target. Leroy was no longer in this world. Since devouring him, he'd become her familiar. He was a part of her, now, along with the other one-hundred thousand two hundred and eighty-seven lives she held within her. That number kept growing. She wondered what she'd do when it got too high. Alucard would know. Maybe she should ask him. After all, she'd be seeing him real soon.

A/N: Dang, long chapter. Anyway, I hope no one gets too angry at me for doing this. And expect to see Anderson again soon. He has a much bigger role in this story than even I'd anticipated. Anyway, I won't update again for a while, so no begging, MarzBarz!


	10. Nine

A/N: Here it is, the chapter that changes everything, and I mean literally. For those of you who like a certain paladin in this story, you're going to hate me. Also, I did my best getting their characters down in what's clearly an unfamiliar setting and arrangement, so go easy on me. Oh, and one more thing, the events of _Hellsing_ are going to transpire, I'm just moving them back several months. Otherwise, everything is basically chronological. Now, on with the story.

Nine

Back in Bristol, Wynter was sitting up on the roof, staring at her phone and debating whether or not she should call. After all, some advice might do her a world of good. Fortunately, fate was on her side. It started to ring right then and there. She smiled and answered it; "Hello again...yeah, I'm just fine. How about you? Good, I was getting a little worried, there when you told me...oh? She did, huh? Well, you know how we can be, sometimes. Unpredictable, uncontrollable, and loud. That's us...yes, I know. Hey, listen, there was something I wanted to ask you about. You see, due to circumstances, Sasha and I are going to return to London very soon, now...yeah, we have no choice. I'll explain it when we get there. Yeah, lets' just say I won't be flying anywhere for a few months...mm-hmm, that's what happened. Another reason I want to return is because when they start coming in, I'll be incapacitated. I want to be somewhere safe for when they break through...yup, that's the gist of it. Hm?"

Wynter stood up, moving to the other side of the roof and sitting down so she could stare out over Bristol, "No, he was actually rather tolerable for once. However, I do owe him, now. That's a little daunting to say the least...no, it's not like that. Try not to worry so much...uh-huh, says you. Well, I think I'll go inside now. I guess I'll be seeing you soon. Bye,"

She hung up and returned to the other side of the roof, jumping off the balcony and going inside. She found Sasha sitting on the sofa with a book, "I'm going to the basement for a little bit," she told her.

"Why?" Sasha asked, looking up. Wynter just smiled, "I'm feeling a bit sleepy," was her response. She headed down without a word and Sasha grew slightly suspicious. She sat back and waited for ten minutes until she was sure Wynter had truly gone downstairs. Then, she stood up and tiptoed her way to the stairs, slowly taking them as quickly and as quietly as she could. Once she got to the top landing, she got down on all fours and crawled to the edge, peering down into the darkness. The light filtering in from above allowed her to see Wynter sitting down there. Sasha's eyes widened in alarm.

Wynter sat on the floor with a small pile of feathers surrounding her. She'd removed her shirt, leaving her in a white sleeveless top and her hair draped forward over her shoulders. She reached back to grasp a handful of feathers dangling from the stump where her wing used to be. Sasha felt her stomach heave in horror at the sight, "Wynter!" she gasped on reflex. Wynter whirled, her eyes blazing in fury and her fangs bared. When she saw Sasha, she relaxed slightly and stepped back, looking strangely like a child who'd been caught in a prank. Sasha leaped to her feet and took the stairs two at a time until she'd reached her friend. She knelt down, staring hard at her, "Wynter, what on earth happened to your wings?" she demanded. Wynter didn't answer; she just looked away, toward the little mound of feathers on the ground. Sasha ground her teeth and grabbed a lock of Wynter's hair, dragging her head around to look her in the eye, "Wynter, did Anderson do this to you?" she snapped.

"No, Sasha, he didn't." Wynter gritted out.

"I don't believe you! I don't have the slightest idea why you defend him, but if he so much as—"

"Sasha!" Wynter yelled, "He wouldn't have just left it at ripping my wings off! He would have slaughtered me!"

Sasha blinked in surprise and sudden hurt at Wynter's outburst. She slowly let the vampire's hair slip from her fingers as she bowed her head, "I'm...I'm sorry, Wynter," she said, "What happened to you isn't any of my business. I just...I just worry about you sometimes, you know?" she mumbled, "You're all I have left, anymore,"

Wynter hummed, "I apologize for yelling, Sasha. But listen, I need you to leave me alone right now. I have to remove what's left of my wings.

"Huh? But why?"

"I can't just regenerate them. For one reason or another, my wings were always different from the rest of my body. They erupted after I was stolen away from Alucard, when I was held in the facility. During a period of intense emotional stress, they finally broke free from my back. I don't know why they took so long, nor do I know why I have them to begin with. All I do know is that I've had them torn off three times now and they've always grown back over a few months. But I become feverish and vulnerable during this time, so once I'm finished here, I'll come back upstairs and explain our next course of action, okay, Sasha?"

Sasha sighed heavily, getting to her feet, "Okay, Wynter. But just be careful, okay?"

Wynter watched her leave and then turned away from the door as she was enclosed in darkness. It was true. During the period of her wings' regrowth, she developed a fever powerful enough to kill humans. She always survived, but she was rendered totally helpless during these times. She'd never understood why she had wings, anyway. No other vampire she knew of had feathered wings like this. She also didn't understand why they wouldn't regenerate. She sighed and flipped the knife backward in her hand, reaching back to start.

Wynter gasped sharply and hunched forward in pain. She ground her teeth together and squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden familiar sensation.

"No...way!" she gritted out, "They're...they're already coming in! This is too fast!"

She staggered to her feet and groped about for the banister, "Sasha! Sasha, come quick!" she cried, "Hurry!"

The door flew open as though Sasha had been waiting right outside. She fumbled down the stairs and knelt beside Wynter, "What's wrong? What is it?"

"The wings are already coming in, and I haven't even gotten the dead pieces out yet!"

"What?"

"There's no time! Call Marjorie. Tell her what's happening and to be especially vigilant! Once the fever starts, I won't be able to move for a few days. You need to go back upstairs and lock me in here. Don't come down here no matter what, understand?" Wynter exclaimed.

"No way am I leaving you here in this condition!" Sasha snapped, "Damn that Paladin for even letting this happen to you!"

"Would you knock it off! Listen, the fever might make me delirious and I don't want you here when that happens. I might attack you. Just stay out of here for the next few days and be ready to leave once I'm finished here," Wynter growled through gritted teeth.

"Leave where?"

"Hellsing! Where else? Agh! Get out of here, go! Now!"

Sasha reluctantly left Wynter at the base of the stairs and hurried back up until the first floor, casting one anxious glance at her friend before closing her in total darkness.

Sasha leaned up against the door, feeling the pounding of her heart as she remembered Wynter's face. She cast about in her head for something to do to help, but the only thing that came to mind were Wynter's instructions to her; to call Marjorie. She hurried to the phone and shakily lifted the receiver from the cradle, dialing the number to Samantha Gray's fruit stand. After four rings, someone finally picked up; "_Hello, this is Gray's Assorted Produce,_"

"Samantha? It's me, Sasha,"

"_Oh. Hm. Well, what is it, then?_"

"Can I please speak to Marjorie? It's kind of an emergency," Sasha babbled, casting glances back toward the basement.

"_It's always an emergency with you humans. Try to settle down now and again,_"

Sasha was about to snap out some kind of retort, but Samantha left the phone and called Marjorie over. She breathed a sigh of relief when Marjorie got on the phone, "_Hi, Sasha. I'm sorry about Samantha. You know how she feels about you,_"

"Yes, yes, I know. Listen, Marjorie, it really is bad. Wynter had her wings torn off!"

"_Oh, not again. I do hope that she isn't having problems removing the dead parts,_"

"Well, yes and no. See, it happened just a couple of days ago, apparently, and now the wings are coming in as we speak,"

"_What!_" Marjorie exclaimed so loudly that Sasha held the receiver away from her ear. She pulled it back, her anxiety peaking, "So, could you come over?"

"_Sasha? This is Samantha. Marjorie's on her way. She should be there any second now,_" Samantha said, suddenly coming back on the line. Sasha only had time to blink in shock before the door was suddenly thrown open against the wall and Marjorie rushed inside, barreling past Sasha and making a beeline to the basement. Without a word to the human, she threw the door open and stumbled downstairs, into the darkness, the door moving shut behind her. Sasha turned back to the phone, but Samantha had already hung up. She hung up slowly and sighed, staring at the door of the basement. She knew she had no need to worry; Wynter was in good hands with Marjorie. If the wings were coming in so much more quickly than before, then that just meant that Wynter would be on her feet that much faster. But even as she told herself this, Sasha still felt uneasy. If what Wynter said was true, that it took a long time for her wings to grow back once ripped out, then why were they coming in so much faster, now? Forget that, why did they have to come in at all? Why couldn't she just regenerate them?

Sasha sighed. Why was she getting the feeling like something was wrong?

/ooo/

Two hours passed. Marjorie sat with Wynter down in the basement, the younger vampire out cold with her head resting in her lap. Marjorie stroked Wynter's hair affectionately, not speaking. Wynter's wings had finally erupted about a half-hour ago. After cleaning them, Marjorie had let them air dry while Wynter slept.

"Poor Wynter," Marjorie mumbled, "You go through so much to keep me and the others safe. All in the name of harmony for our kind. And the sad part is that you may never live to see your tree of harmony bear fruit. It's so frustrating, isn't it?"

Wynter moaned in her sleep, her eyes moving about rapidly beneath the lids. She was dreaming, but Marjorie knew this. After all, the last two times this happened, Marjorie had been the one to care for Wynter during her vulnerable times like this.

"Maman..." Wynter whispered, her subconscious picking out the memories of her mother that her body had long since discarded. Marjorie blinked in surprise. She smiled, "Ah, so you've retained knowledge of your mother tongue, have you, Wynter? That's right, I'd forgotten you were a French aristocrat. It's so odd, you know? Over the years, your accent disappeared and you adapted to the English language like the rest of us living here. Only in your dreams can you retrieve what was lost."

Marjorie stared up at the ceiling and hummed, "Wynter, do you ever wonder if maybe...just maybe, there's such a thing as parallel worlds? And that we have other selves existing in those worlds? Would the same apply to us, as vampires? We, who can live for centuries and even millennia? Our doubles, we'd surely outlive them, wouldn't we? And then we wouldn't have doubles anymore. Or perhaps our doubles would serve to live the human lives we never got to enjoy. Perhaps my double was never taken. Maybe she had a lovely life all her own. My dream was to have a baby girl all my own someday. Or a baby boy, either is fine, but a girl would be heavenly. I was going to name her Rebecca. Isn't that just the prettiest name you ever heard?" Marjorie said, giggling. She sighed, "But of course, I'm incapable of having children, now. Vampires...vampires are incapable of physical change, so it's impossible. Whoever the god was that designed us was a fool. Forcing us to live so incredibly long without a chance for happiness,"

Marjorie felt the hot tears well up behind her glasses, dripping down and fogging her vision. She let out a choked sob and reached up to remove her glasses, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"That...may be true, but..."

Marjorie gasped and looked down at Wynter. The Draculina was still asleep, but she was talking out loud; "Life is...precious...even un-life...happiness and unhappiness...are merely illusions. In the end...what will happen...is up to you..."

Wynter fell back into a deep sleep, leaving Marjorie to stare at her bewilderment. Wynter's wings twitched viciously all of a sudden, redirecting Marjorie's attention. Something on the floor caught her eye and she reached down to gently grasp it in her fingers. She lifted it up, peering closely at it. It was a delicate, white feather.

"White? But Wynter's feathers are solid, coal black," she said in wonder, gazing down at the developing wings. They'd been small when they erupted, but they were growing at an exponential rate. Within a few hours, they'd be big enough to fly with again, but compact, as always. But still, that didn't explain the white feather. Marjorie frowned, staring at Wynter curiously.

The vampire slept on.

/ooo/

Anderson got the call around noon. He hadn't been expecting it. In fact, so engrossed did he become in his everyday life and duties at the orphanage that he'd nearly forgotten Maxwell's plans involving Giuseppe and Mireille. So when he was taking a break, sitting on the steps and watching a few of the boys teaching one of the new girls to play soccer, he was a little unprepared when his phone rang. He answered it, still off-guard, but didn't even have time to say anything.

"_Anderson, how are you?_"

Anderson's eyes widened first, and then narrowed, "Maxwell. It's been ae while," he said.

"_Yes, it has, hasn't it? A couple of weeks. Such a shame, really. In fact, why don't you come down here? I have something to show you that I think you'll be interested in,_"

"What is it?"

"_The twins have awoken. I believe I told you this. I've told them all about the wonderful teacher I had growing up. They want to meet you right away, Anderson,_" Maxwell said.

"Is that righ'?" Anderson muttered, more than a little wary.

"_Absolutely. Why don't you drop by say...this evening around one or so? Will that suit you?_" he asked. Anderson sighed, "Ah doon't see why no'," he said.

"_Excellent. We'll be expecting you, then._"

Maxwell hung up and Anderson stared darkly at the phone. Something wasn't right here. Not only with Maxwell, but with those two children. For one thing, where had Maxwell gotten twin children to perform this experiment on in the first place? They looked about as old as some of the youngsters from the orphanage, but they didn't look like any of the children currently in Anderson's care. He'd have noticed if any of them went missing. After all, he watched each one diligently. When one got hurt, he was usually the first to know. It wasn't easy to tell looking at him, but he did in fact love each one as though they were his own. All he wanted for them was a safe place to grow up and be just what they were; children.

But this new development was making him uneasy. He hadn't gotten this way since the very first time he took on a vampire.

He stood up and sighed. He wasn't that old, but thinking about all the vampires he'd killed made him feel a lot older than he really was. It was kind of depressing. But he chose not to think about it. Right now, he had more important matters to deal with. If he wanted to make Maxwell's deadline, he figured he should probably start for Rome now.

The kids' soccer ball bounced off its path and rolled to a stop in front of him. He glanced down at it and then looked up as one of his more mischievous wards hurried over, Michele. The boy waved enthusiastically, "Father, could you throw that back?" he called. Anderson smiled and gave the ball and gentle kick back toward the kids. Then he continued on down the path toward the front gate. By car, it took about twenty minutes to drive, but it was easy enough to walk there in about forty minutes, maybe a little more, when the weather was favorable like it was today. Besides, a good walk might calm his nerves. The route was scenic, the day was gorgeous and the weather wasn't too warm for the heavy coat he often wore over his clerical robes. As he walked, his thoughts wandered to this beautiful day before him, and from there, to that vampire, Wynter, making him wonder what could possibly convince someone to give up something as pleasant as daylight. He knew that she'd asked to be changed into a vampire. He'd found that out the year before during the battle with Arakawa. Looking at such a day like this made him wonder what would possess someone like Genevieve Du Beaumont to ask Alucard to turn her. From what he'd discovered, it sounded like Genevieve's life was one of safety and normalcy. He'd learned that the Du Beaumonts were respected aristocrats and that their oldest son was studying abroad to become a diplomat. Their eldest daughter, Genevieve, had been engaged to be married, her betrothed having died of tuberculosis a few years before. The reports had stated that the Du Beaumont family had been killed by assassins one night and that their only surviving child was the son, the younger daughter killed and the older gone missing. Of course, Anderson knew what really happened, that their deaths were perpetrated by that vampire, Von Brunswick. Now, a hundred and fifty-four years later, the elder Du Beaumont daughter was found. But she was no longer their daughter. She was an unholy, walking corpse that fed on human blood.

Anderson frowned. At least, this was what he'd believed until he saw the impossible with his own two eyes; Genevieve returning to Wynter's body. But like he'd told himself before; vampires didn't separate from their human counterparts. The human simply became another creature with the same mind. Splitting of consciousnesses just wasn't possible. There was something he was missing here, but what was it?

Anderson sighed, shaking his head lightly. Wynter was different; that was the only fact he could nail down. He'd met many mysteries over the years and he knew he wasn't going to solve Wynter so easily. He at least wanted to figure her out before he killed her. To be frank, he couldn't stand knowing that there was a vampire out there who downright baffled him.

For the moment, he decided to just not think about it. All it did was irritate him. Right now, he was on a simple walk to the heart of Rome a short distance away. He wondered what Maxwell wanted to show him concerning the twins. He supposed he'd find out soon. Perhaps then, he'd find out the reason behind their creation.

/ooo/

As usual, the urban of Rome, the Eternal City was bustling with visitors and locals, rushing to get nowhere, fast. It was fun watching the visitors wandering through the majestic old city. Anderson often stopped to watch tourists at the Trevi fountain on his way to the Vatican. The legend went that if you tossed three coins into the fountain while facing away from it, you'd have another trip to Rome. He wasn't sure what got that legend started, but it was amusing to watch anyway. He didn't really speak to anyone while he was there. His accent sort of put him out just a little bit. He himself wasn't entirely sure where he came from, but a clear Scottish accent in Rome stood out, or so he was told. It made conversation a little bit awkward, to say the least.

He didn't have time to dawdle today. It was already twelve-thirty. He needed to be there soon and getting down to the hidden catacombs took a fair amount of time.

The Vatican was usually a quiet and serene place. The only people he saw on his way to the statue of Gabriel were a few tourists whispering to themselves as they walked. Because of terrorism threats across the world, a vast portion of the Vatican was sealed off, open only to properly identified individuals.

Anderson approached the statue and opened up the passageway. He didn't bother to check and make sure no one was watching. Even if they were, it happened too quickly to see anything. He stepped inside and made his way down the clearly familiar pathway to the basement chamber. As he drew deeper and deeper into the hidden catacombs, his feeling of uneasiness grew more intense. By the time he reached the sub-level basement, it was bad enough to make him hesitate. But he forced back his misgivings and opened the door, stepping inside to whatever awaited him.

Little did he know that it was a decision that he would regret for the rest of his life.

Maxwell stood inside the room, now dimly lit by small overhead lights above them. The cases on the floor were gone. Edmond sat twitching on a high stool by his workbench. Maxwell turned as Anderson approached and smiled, "Ah, I'm so glad you could make it. I promise you won't be disappointed," he said.

Anderson didn't say anything. There was something about the change in this room that was bothering him. Where were Giuseppe and Mireille? As if he'd read his mind, Maxwell nodded, "In case you were wondering, the twins are doing just fine, Anderson. In fact, they're ready to begin conditioning and training, now."

"Sae where are they?" Anderson asked. Maxwell gestured off to the left to a large crate a few feet away from where Edmond sat. Edmond hurriedly jumped to his feet and rushed over to the crate, undoing the large deadbolt lock sealing it shut and opening it. As Anderson watched in baffled horror, Giuseppe and Mireille slowly crawled out into the open. They looked about the same as the day he'd first seen them. They were purely albino, Giuseppe with short wavy white hair and Mireille with similar hair that reached clear down her back. Both had solid gray, blank eyes and chalky skin typical to albinos. Giuseppe wore an Iscariot uniform that had to have been custom-made for his small features. Mireille wore a nun's habit, also custom tailored to fit her tiny body. They each carried some kind of elegantly faceted green stone set in iron on a silver chain about their necks. Anderson noticed that Giuseppe had a scabbard tied around his shoulders with what looked like a claymore sword sheathed within.

"So then," Maxwell said, "Allow me to reintroduce Holy Sword Giuseppe, and his sister, Holy Shield Mireille. I assume you're wondering what children of this stature are capable of, am I correct?"

Anderson clenched his fists, but said nothing. Maxwell chuckled, "As per their names suggest, Anderson, Giuseppe is our newest line of offensive power while Mireille is the gentler defensive power. Make no mistake, she is no less deadly than her brother. But she is certainly less of a threat than he can be, as we will soon discover,"

He moved around to stand behind them, "The secret to their power is in that old phrase, 'two heads are better than one'. I would never recommend one fighting without the other in close proximity," he said.

Giuseppe and Mireille stared blankly ahead, never moving or speaking. It was a little eerie, but they almost resembled marionettes. Maxwell's eyes narrowed, "I do apologize for their lack of manners, Anderson. I'm afraid that they don't speak very much. It's all a part of their conditioning. I'm guessing that you now want to know what they can do,"

"It crossed mah mind," Anderson grumbled, clearly uncomfortable with this whole situation. Something about those children wasn't right. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that nothing reflected in their eyes, almost like the eyes were made of glass.

Maxwell chuckled, "Very well. True to his name, Giuseppe is the wielder of God's divine sword on earth. Engaged in battle, Giuseppe will be the one to charge headlong into the fray, sword raised high. He has strength enough to wield the heavy claymore we have presented him with, to slice his foes to bits where they stand. But as you well know, offense alone won't win a war, Anderson. And this is where the lovely Mireille steps in. Her specialty lies in enhanced mental prowess; psychic energy if you will. Her role is to shield her brother during battle, as well as rend her enemies to pieces using that same telekinetic force. While her brother is destroying our enemies directly, she is taking care of any stragglers from a distance. This way, even if by some misplaced miracle they manage to evade Giuseppe, they will never make it past Mireille. In a sense, she is the stronger of the two," Maxwell explained.

Anderson gritted his teeth in anger, "Tell meh, Maxwell," he snapped, "Why children? Why use children faur this mad scheme o' yers?"

Maxwell's eyes took on a dark, almost sinister glow. He sighed, "Anderson, tell me something," he said, "You've been the only recipient of this God-given technology to survive the ordeal. Because of this, improvement on the technology itself has been nearly impossible until now. Are you perhaps, jealous?"

"What! O' course no'! Ah really connae care less! What Ah want tae know is why use children?" Anderson exclaimed.

Maxwell sighed, shaking his head, "Anderson, you were always so respected amongst my teachers and peers. You're the strongest agent His Holiness the Pope could ask for. But don't you see? There are so many flaws in your design, Anderson. Part of my study has been to improve upon those flaws. I believe I've come up with an answer,"

He knelt beside Giuseppe, reaching out to lightly stroke the boy's hair, "You see, it has come to my attention that a human being just isn't capable of total victory on such a grand scale, Anderson. Humans are weak, frail, corruptible, and most importantly: human. You dispatch vampires like no other hunter in existence, Anderson. I commend you for your outstanding success in that department. However, when it comes to all heathens, you're somewhat less then commendable. You don't feel right attacking innocent humans, no matter what their religion. You kill them anyway, but your hesitation is sometimes more than a little evident. The priestly side of you secretly hopes that they will redeem themselves one day and be saved. That, Anderson, is your sin. Heathens are heathens; they will _never_ be saved! And so, the duty falls upon me to correct this problem. Hence, Giuseppe and Mireille have come into being as the ultimate successors to God's divine gift," Maxwell exclaimed.

Anderson suddenly became apprehensive, especially when Maxwell stood up and took a step back, arms folded behind him.

"What are ye trying tae say, Maxwell?" Anderson asked. Giuseppe and Mireille had suddenly turned their heads toward him simultaneously, almost like robots. Maxwell shrugged, "Simple. The second generation of the divine gift has arrived, Anderson. I'm afraid that you have become, in the terminology of the world of technology...obsolete. Do you recall how I wished for you to meet the twins? How I said you would be a great assistance in their development? Well, I do hope you can forgive me for this, but it's truly for the good of our organization— no! For the good of all of Catholicism! Anderson, you have one final duty you must fulfill for the good of the Iscariot Organization,"

He raised his hand and the twins' eyes began to glow bright green. Anderson took a cautious step back. Maxwell bowed his head, "Holy Sword and Holy Shield," he said, "You have but one test to prove to your creator your ultimate power. Destroy your predecessor and finalize your places as the wielders of God's divine wrath on earth!"

He wasn't sure how he knew it to be a fact; that there was no way he could fight them. Maybe it happened when Giuseppe unsheathed the claymore and came barreling at him almost before he could draw a single bayonet.

"Another reason I chose children, Anderson," Maxwell called, "Is because I knew you would never stoop so low as to attack a child,"

As he warded off Giuseppe's attacks, it dimly occurred to Anderson that Maxwell was right. Horrendously low to even consider such a horrible strategy, but right.

Giuseppe feigned a swipe to the left and caught Anderson off guard, suddenly flipping his sword around and snagging the priest on the shoulder. Anderson staggered back in pain, clutching his shoulder as he threw himself out of the way of Giuseppe's next lightning fast strike. If Maxwell was truly correct, Anderson wouldn't even get to see Mireille's abilities in action.

Anderson dove to the right, barely avoiding an overhead strike that would surely have cut him in two if he'd hesitated. The sword buried itself in the door frame and Giuseppe struggled with it for just a moment. Anderson took this time to snatch one of his bayonets and flip it upside down, jamming the hilt directly into the boy's solar plexus below his ribcage, momentarily stunning him. Wielder of the divine gift or not, Giuseppe was still more or less a human body. He slumped to the ground and Anderson fled the sub-level chamber without looking back. He felt some kind of gust following him as he ran and it briefly occurred to him that Mireille might be preparing a second strike while her brother was down. He refused to look back, but continued running back up to the surface, praying that even though Maxwell had betrayed and abandoned him, that perhaps God hadn't given up on him, yet. He supposed his prayer was heard when he somehow managed to make it to the hidden door, throwing it open and then pausing just once to glance back the way he'd come. His heart about stopped when he saw Mireille at the base of the stairs, her body hovering a few feet above the ground as she stared blankly up at him. She started up the stairs toward him.

Anderson wasn't a fool. He knew when he couldn't fight, or was outmatched. Now was one of those times. Self-preservation came before victory. He slammed the secret hatch closed, breaking the horn off the statue with a single wrench. It wasn't a complete seal. He knew that Maxwell and Edmond would find a way out. But it bought him some time. Right now, he needed to get out of there, or he was as good as dead. But Maxwell was right; no matter what they were, no matter how they acted, Giuseppe and Mireille were still human children. Brainwashed and modified, yes, but children all the same. He just couldn't do it.

Anderson managed to avoid the other members of Iscariot for the time being. Most of the other Iscariots would probably go against Maxwell's insane scheme. He needed to at least get a message to Yumie and Heinkel, warning them. Knowing Yumie, at the slightest mention of betrayal, she'd go bonkers and try to slaughter Maxwell. Anderson had to make sure that Heinkel kept her relatively calm. If he could, he wanted to try to resolve this without any internal deaths within the organization. At this point in time, with war erupting all over due to vampire attacks and threats from Hellsing, this was no time to be divided.

He made it out of the Vatican and into the streets of Rome. He knew it wasn't safe out in the open like this. Maxwell wouldn't attack the Catholics living in Rome, but Anderson wasn't sure of anything anymore. To be on the safe side, he needed to get off the street. He ducked into an alleyway and knelt behind a cardboard box to catch his breath, keeping an eye on the street across from his position where the steps of the Vatican lay. For an entire half-hour, he waited. He saw a few members of Iscariot run out several times and wondered if they were on his side or on Maxwell's. Finally, Anderson figured it was time go. He couldn't stay in Rome, not as long as Giuseppe and Mireille were given orders to hunt him down. From what Maxwell had said, Anderson gathered that Giuseppe and Mireille's first test was to kill him, the original agent of the divine gift. Until he figured a way out of this, it was too dangerous to remain in Rome. For the time being, he knew his only choice was to leave. But for now, he decided he'd try to go back to the orphanage to gather a few of his belongings.

/ooo/

Night had fallen over the land. Over the aged city, the starts glittered brightly in the sky, the light from Rome barely a glimmer on the horizon to dim the brilliance of the thousands of tiny shards in the blanket of night.

Sister Katherine stood with one of the training priests in the main hall of the convent. A clock somewhere chimed eleven. Katherine hummed and frowned, "That's very unusual," she remarked, "Father Anderson has yet to return,"

The young cleric shrugged, "Maybe he was detained," he said.

"I don't know. It's not like him to be so late without telling anyone," she said. They made their way upstairs. Most of the others had already retired to their rooms for the night. Katherine was a bit of a night owl anyway and the young cleric was restless. Katherine decided she'd check on the children.

At the top of the stairs, Katherine turned to begin at the end of the hallway and stopped, staring, "Mathew," she whispered to the cleric, "Look!"

At the end of the hall, they could see a tall figure leaving the room on the end. It was Father Anderson's room. Katherine breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that however he got in without being noticed, the fact that he'd returned was well and good in of itself. She nodded as he approached silently, but frowned in confusion when she saw that he had a small satchel slung over his shoulder.

"Father, what are you doing?" she asked. It was only then that Anderson seemed to notice their presence. He motioned them closer. Katherine and Mathew exchanged wary glances and hurried over, pausing a few feet away from him.

"Father, what's going on?" Katherine asked, "Are you leaving?"

"Aye," Anderson answered grimly, "Ah doon't have much choice, though,"

"What's happened?" Katherine exclaimed.

"Ah'm afraid Ah cannae gae into details, Katherine. But Ah need ye tae keep mah departure quiet,"

Anderson glanced off to the left toward one of the open rooms. It was the one that Andrew and Michele shared. He smiled lightly and moved to gingerly step inside the room, standing over Andrew's bedside. The boy's teddy bear had slipped to the floor and he knelt and picked it up, setting it gently on the pillow beside Andrew. He reached out to slowly ruffle the boy's hair fondly before straightening up and stepping out again, closing the door so that only a pinprick of light drifted into the room. Katherine watched him do this with a feeling of anxiety creeping up. What was going on? Anderson was acting like he was never coming back here.

The priest turned back toward them, "Listen," he said quietly, "Ah have tae get away from here faur ae while,"

"Father, I don't understand," Katherine said, "What's happened?"

"Yes, please tell us," Mathew insisted.

"Something's gone wroong wi' Maxwell," Anderson said gravely, "Ah doon't know what's going on in that head o' his, but whatever it is, if Ah stay here, Ah'll be killed, and nae good tae this place would Ah be, deid," he said.

"Killed?" Katherine whispered in fright, covering her mouth with her hands. She looked over at Mathew as though searching for answers he likely didn't have. He seemed frozen in shock.

"Noo listen," he told them, "Ah'm going away faur ae while. Ah doon't know how long Ah'll be gone. Ah need ye two tae be strong faur meh, all right?"

Both of them seemed heavily at unease at the moment. If Father Anderson was nervous, then they all had reason to be as well. Katherine sighed, "Father, I don't always understand what's going on in that head of yours," she said, her voice shaking, "But I'll tell you this now, if anything happens to you, everyone here will be devastated. I hope you realize this," she said sternly. Anderson smiled and chuckled, "How could that slip mah mind?" he said bemusedly, "Ah'll be fine, Katherine. Ye two, hold doown the fort and pray that nothing comes o' this in the end," he said, brushing past them and heading toward the stairs. He'd just about reached the door when Mathew and Katherine hurried down to the landing, "Wait!" Katherine said, "Where are you going?"

Anderson paused at the door and glanced back, "The last place Maxwell would think tae look," he answered, "England,"

And with that, he was gone. Katherine and Mathew exchanged worried glances and Katherine sighed heavily, "Be careful, Father," she muttered.

A/N: First off, my main goal here is to give Anderson a more human persona. In the television series, he's depicted as a psychotic murderer and I just don't like that version. The OVA version is much nicer, it seems. He also seems to possess some morals, unlike his television counterpart. As we go, there are key points you'll need to figure out, but like heck I'm telling you what they are. That would just ruin the fun of it. And trust me, everything in this story happens for a reason. Luna over and out.


	11. Ten

A/N: I'm thoroughly exhausted. I went to Cedar Point for the first time yesterday and I suppose I'm more of a Ride Warrior than I thought I was. 0_o Sigh, well anyway, here's the tenth chapter. Special thanks to Alucard-Nightroad89 and MarzBarz for actually giving me the morale-boosting feedback I so desperately need. They understand that good (or bad) reviews are sometimes the best gift a writer can give. It shows them that their work is being read. Also, critiquing is good because it helps me improve. I certainly don't want to get lazy with my work.

Here's the new chapter.

Ten

Wynter sighed heavily as she stared out at the twilight horizon across the water of the Thames. They were almost in London again. Because of Wynter's recurring fever, she was more susceptible to the sun's power, so Sasha had arranged an evening train ride to London. Most of the cabal had panicked when Wynter told them she was leaving, but she assured them that it was for the best. Clearly, the enemy saw her as a threat. If they intended to attack again, they'd have to do so in the territory of the greatest threat to all vampires; Hellsing. An organization to which, Wynter boasted membership in the brooch that Integra had given her the year before, stating that she'd be welcomed back if she ever chose to return.

Across the aisle from her, Sasha yawned widely and sighed, "How are your wings doing, Wyn?"

"Stop calling me that. And they're doing fine, Sasha," Wynter mumbled. Sasha growled something unintelligible to herself, "Damn it," she snapped, "If I find out that that damn paladin did in fact play a role in what happened to your wings, I'll—"

"Sasha, knock it off," Wynter muttered, cutting in, "For the last time, Anderson had nothing to do with what Dorcas and Harriet did to me."

Sasha sighed and glared out the window, folding her arms in a childish pout, "Wynter, why do you defend him?"

"I don't defend just him, I defend everyone you unjustly accuse," Wynter back lashed. Sasha stuck out her lower lip, "That's not fair; he's the only one I unjustly accuse," she snapped. "Name one other person undeserving of my suspicion,"

"Samantha for suspecting you of stealing that orange last month, Simon for being a pervert, Alucard and Seras for blackmailing me, that fisherman for spying on us, the—"

"Okay, okay, I said just one." Sasha growled. Wynter chuckled, "And now, add Anderson to that list and you've about come full circle,"

"Shut up," Sasha muttered, tossing a magazine at her. Wynter smiled, "You know, now that I think about it, this will be the first time you've ever seen Hellsing, won't it?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You've only ever spoken of it, but I've never actually been there," Sasha answered, "Tell me, what's it like?"

"I only spent a short time there. From what I understand, Alucard lives in the basement and has spent the last hundred or so years serving the Hellsing family. I remember back when they first became a vampire hunting organization. I always used to worry that my master had gotten mixed up in their affairs. Now I'm starting to realize that he not only got mixed up, he was the very center of their whole existence in the first place,"

"So you're saying that that whole thing was an historical account?"

Wynter shrugged, "Who knows? Alucard likes hypnotizing people. Maybe he had a hand in that whole scenario,"

Sasha shook her head, "Man, you vampires are weird. But I guess Alucard's like your dad, huh?" she said with a slight melancholic air.

"I guess you could look at it like that. After all, I have no memories of my human years, so he kind of is. Were you remembering your dad, or something?" Wynter asked her. Sasha grew somewhat sullen at the mention of her late father. She nodded slowly, "Yeah."

"Tell me about him," Wynter said. Sasha smiled weakly and hunched over slightly, staring into space as she sorted through her memories;

"He was a joker," Sasha muttered, "Every year on my birthday, he'd come up with some new prank. Trick candles, shaving cream frosting atop a fake cardboard cake with the real cake hidden in the closet, that sort of thing. Up until we lost mom, he was the epitome of wise cracks and shenanigans and every day spent with him was a blast. But...when mom was, well...you know... dad changed. He became quiet and moody, often locking himself in his study for hours on end. I'd hear him crying through the door. He refused to talk to me. We used to all enjoy family dinners together. Take-out was a thing of myth for us. But after what happened to mom, dad stopped cooking at night. We were pretty much left with whatever we could find. Our neighbors thought mom was killed in a car accident. That was the story dad told. They sometimes brought food over for us,"

"Why did your father tell them it was a car accident?" Wynter asked.

"Oh come on, would people really believe my mom was killed by a vampire? Even the autopsy-technicians suspected something was wrong when mom was brought in. They questioned her severe lack of blood, so she was labeled as an undiagnosed anemic. Dad couldn't take the news that mom was gone and because of a vampire, no less. So he just...withdrew from everything; his friends, his family, even me. Finally, one night while I was reading in my room, I heard a single gunshot from down in his study. I only remember running down and finding my dad's body on the floor, the gun still in his hand. After that, it's all a blur. I just remember despising vampires for what they did to my family,"

Sasha scowled at nothing in particular, seemingly lost in her unwanted reveries. Wynter suddenly felt a flash of guilt for asking about Sasha's family. She also felt tremendous anger toward the vampire that did this to her family. Like many humans whose lives had been ruined by vampires, Sasha believed that vampires were heartless, evil creatures with no sense of morality.

"Of course," Sasha continued, looking up and smiling. Wynter could see right through it as Sasha sat up, "That was before I met you, Wynter,"

"Don't lie to me, Sasha," Wynter said sternly. Sasha frowned, "Huh?" she said. Wynter sighed. "Listen, you hate vampires. Even now, you continue to hate them. Knowing me makes no difference in your beliefs, Sasha. A vampire murdered your mother and caused your father's death. Don't act like I'd be offended if you told me that despite knowing me, you still hate vampires,"

Sasha hummed, "But Wynter, I don't hate you. Vampire or not, you're still my best friend," Sasha told her. Wynter sighed and tossed the magazine back, smacking her on the nose, "And you, my friend, are a sappy human. Quit with the soapbox crap and read your magazine. I'm going to sleep,"

Sasha blinked in surprise and smiled, chuckling, "Whatever you say, you creep," she said, opening up the magazine and flipping through it.

In all actuality, Sasha had never been to London, period. For a long time, Sasha had really lived in Germany because of her dad's job. She'd only come to England when she followed Wynter back from Japan where she'd been staying with relatives, now gone from this world.

When the train pulled into the station, Wynter had to resist the urge to laugh out loud at Sasha, who acted like a little kid seeing the outside world for the first time.

"Woah! Is that the Tower of London?" she exclaimed, pointing at Big Ben. Wynter chuckled, "No, that's not. The Tower of London isn't actually a tower, Sasha. It's a compilation of smaller buildings, more or less,"

Wynter had called ahead and told Integra what was going on. She'd had Walter meet the two of them there. To Wynter's surprise, Alucard had tagged along as well for whatever reason.

Walter bowed respectfully as they approached, "Good afternoon, Ms. Wynter," he said, "It's been a long time,"

"It certainly has. You're looking well, Walter," Wynter said, "Good afternoon, master," she said to Alucard. Alucard tipped his hat up slightly, "You're looking rather queasy, Wynter," he pointed out.

"If you must know, I'm feeling rather sick at the moment," Wynter snapped. She frowned in confusion when Alucard tilted his head, peering around her. She realized that Sasha had hidden behind her again and yanked her out into the open, "Stop hiding!" she hissed. She smiled, "This is Sasha Pevensy. She and Alucard have already met, though," she said to Walter. Walter nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Pevensy. My name is Walter Dornez,"

"Oh," Sasha said, "You're the one Marjorie talked about,"

Walter's eyebrow raised in surprise, "Marjorie?" he said, gazing up at the sky as he wracked his memory, "Ah, yes that younger-looking vampire. Met her back in Warsaw. God, I'd nearly forgotten. So she remembered me, eh?" he said with a light chuckle.

"Yes," Sasha answered, "But from the way she talked, I'd assumed you'd be much younger," she said, earning a sharp jab from Wynter. Walter chuckled bemusedly, "Well, to her, it might have seemed that way. That was back in 1941, after all," he said, smiling. He frowned, "Or was it 1944? I can't seem to recall, it's been so long,"

Alucard sighed heavily, "Walter, how can you stand it? Growing old seems like torture," he exclaimed. Walter made a sound of indignation, "Nonsense. I've said it before, Alucard, age is a traditional pleasure for English gentlemen. Honestly, how many times must I remind you?"

"As many as it takes," Alucard said with a grin. Walter rolled his eyes and turned back to Wynter and Sasha, "Well then, Integra has explained the situation to us. You can regale your side of the story on the way," he said to the Draculina. He opened the door to the car for them and Sasha and Wynter climbed inside. Walter got in and started the car, while Alucard leaned his head on the window of the passenger's seat. Walter started the engine and pulled away from the station.

"So then," Walter said back to them, "I understand that a cabal of peaceful vampires has formed in Bristol, is that correct?"

Wynter sighed, "Yes, it is. Marjorie, that vampire you two met in WWII, is the leader of this cabal. I go about as the mock leader to draw attention away from her at the same time as heading our defensive squadron. I had hoped to keep them a secret from Hellsing, but with this recent incident in Rome, our plans failed,"

"So I understand. From what I gather, enemy vampires attacked you and, er, tore your wings off?" Walter said awkwardly. Wynter nodded, "That's correct. As I explained, Sasha had been injured and I took her to a nearby convent. These vampires are only a mild interference to us. I'm more worried about Iscariot,"

Walter frowned, "Understandable," he said, "Now, if you please, explain about your wings,"

"They've already grown back, surprisingly," Wynter said, "This has happened a few times before and I always grew them back over the course of a few months. But for some reason, this time was far quicker than the others. Also, the fever didn't last as long,"

Walter hummed, "I see," he said, "Are they functional as of now? Your wings, I mean,"

"Quite functional. I intend to take a test flight when we arrive,"

Alucard grinned, "I'm willing to bet you're relieved to return, Wynter," he said. Wynter sighed, "Yes, I did miss this place," Wynter told him, "Hellsing is quite the unusual locale. After all, there aren't many supernatural defensive systems out there with vampires on the payroll, are there?"

"No, I doubt there are," Alucard said, "And good thing for that, too,"

Wynter leaned forward and plopped her chin on his shoulder, staring at him with a wry grin, "And I'm willing to bet that you haven't changed a bit, huh master?" she said. Alucard glanced to the side at her and chuckled, "Don't bet, Wynter. You're a poor gambler. Besides, if I can't have any fun, then what's the point?" he said with a shrug.

Wynter chuckled, "You're nuts, you know that, Alucard?"

"Thank you. I try,"

Wynter laughed and pushed herself back into her seat, folding her arms, "It really is good to be back, though," she said with a smile.

Sasha glanced over at her friend curiously. She hadn't seen Wynter genuinely smile in quite some time now, but the mention of the Hellsing Organization seemed to bring out a lighter side of her.

Within twenty minutes, Wynter sat up slightly and nudged Sasha lightly, "Look, you can see it now," she said.

Sasha leaned forward and peered out the windshield. Ahead was a large, elegant mansion situated between the hills.

"Is that it?" she asked. Wynter nodded, "Yup. That's the Hellsing Manor," she explained, "We'll find Sir Integra there,"

"So uh...," Sasha said, "What's he like?"

"Who?"

"Sir Integra,"

Wynter suddenly burst out laughing and Alucard smirked and shook his head. Walter cleared his throat. Sasha looked from each of them and back again, frowning, "What? What'd I say? What?"

Wynter, still giggling, smiled and clapped her on the back, "Sasha, you're too funny," she said, "I'm sorry. I should have explained earlier. Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, the leader of the Hellsing Organization, is actually a 'she', Sasha,"

Sasha blinked, "Huh? Okay, my English dialect may be way off, but then wouldn't it then be Dame Integra?"

"You'd think so, but it's not. She's what's called a Hereditary Baroness. They're not very common," Wynter explained, "So when you speak to her, address her as Sir Integra,"

Sasha looked more confused than ever, but she nodded slowly.

They pulled up outside the main gate and Walter got out, moving around to open the door for them. Wynter stepped out and thanked him as she turned to the figure standing outside the gates, awaiting their arrival. She smiled slightly, eyes narrowed as she pushed her long, almost white hair out of her face, "It's been a long time," she said to Wynter.

"Yes, it has been. It's good to see you again, Sir Integra," Wynter said with a bow. Alucard brushed past without a word to his master, a severe breach in etiquette that he was completely aware of. Integra glowered at him as he passed and he just smirked. He was messing with her. Walter chuckled as he moved forward, "Please forgive him, Sir Integra," he said, "He's in a peculiar mood today,"

"So I see," Integra muttered. She turned back to Wynter and her stony gaze fell on Sasha, who again cowered behind the vampire. Wynter sighed and shoved her out in front of her, "This is my friend and roommate, Sasha Pevensy," she said.

"Sasha Pevensy," Integra said, "Your name sounds familiar,"

"I'm...I'm a former vampire hunter," Sasha gritted out nervously. Integra's brow raised at this, "'Former'? Tell me, why did you give it up?"

"Uh...," Sasha mumbled, reluctant to go into details, "Well...you know, uh...stuff happens,"

Integra chuckled and sighed, "If you wish to keep your secrets, that's fine. It's not my place to pry," she said. She faced Wynter, "I've been informed of the situation. You still have it, I presume?"

Wynter reached into the lining of her shawl, fishing around until she came across it. She extended her fist and opened her hand, revealing the Hellsing coat of arms brooch that she'd received the year prior. Integra nodded in approval, "This is quite acceptable," she said, "Very well then, Wynter. Welcome back to Hellsing,"

"It's good to be back, Sir Integra," Wynter said quietly.

Integra glanced upward toward the overcast sky, shielding her eyes, "Hm, it looks like rain. Why don't you two come in, then. I'll have Walter make some tea,"

/ooo/

Wynter was quite surprised. Integra was treating them like guests. She invited them to join her in the drawing room for tea. Wynter remembered this room well. It was there that she'd rediscovered her subconscious love of music by playing a complicated piece she'd previously never even heard before. She took a seat in one of the chairs across from Integra and sighed softly, "It's like I never left. Everything's exactly as I remembered it," she said.

"It's been only a single year, Wynter," Integra pointed out bemusedly. Wynter smiled, "To a creature like me, to whom time means nothing whatsoever, I could very easily have lost track of the days,"

"True enough," Integra replied.

While Wynter seemed adapted to this type of somewhat lavish environment, Sasha felt heavily out of place. Integra looked up from her chair beside the hearth, "Take a seat, Ms. Pevensy," she said. Sasha looked around self-consciously and did as she was told, sitting down in a chair a few feet away close to Wynter.

"Don't be so nervous," Integra said, "I'm not going to bite. I leave that to our resident monsters," she said with a light chuckle. Sasha smiled slightly, even though the joke was both weak and somewhat true and Integra knew it. It was enough to loosen the tension.

Walter brought their tea in and offered it to each of them. He brought a transfusion bag for Wynter in case she preferred it. She declined politely, preferring the tea over the blood.

Integra stirred two sugar cubes into hers and offered it to the two of them. Sasha still felt uncomfortable, but accepted it gratefully for her tea. After stirring two in as well, she took a sip and her eyes widened, "Wow, this is delicious," she said, "What is it?"

"Ceylon," Integra told her, "It's a favorite around this place. Now then, Wynter, Alucard has informed me of your activities as of late. From what I understand, it seems that one fifth of Bristol's population is comprised of peaceful vampires, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," Wynter said with a completely blank face, "I apologize, but I had originally intended to keep this a secret from Hellsing. However, owing to our unusual circumstances, I felt that you should know about it,"

Integra hummed, folding her hands beneath her chin as she studied the vampire carefully, "So, this cabal, tell me about it,"

"For the record, Sir Integra, we're a community of vampires who wish only for anonymity. We don't bite humans, we leave humans alone for the most part and we keep to ourselves except in times of dire need,"

"Interesting. How do you feed so many individuals? Surely a mass case of humans disappearing from Bristol would have reached our attention," she said skeptically with a tilt of her head.

"We have both humans and older vampires working in the medical field, as well as Helene Du Beaumont, now working under the name Ellen Sinclair. They run blood drives to acquire food for our vampires, without revealing where exactly the blood is going, of course,"

Integra processed this information, "How many of you are there, exactly?"

"About forty-eight. We keep track of everyone through an in-depth registry. But with Iscariot prowling the streets of Bristol, it's hard to keep it hidden. They only recently discovered that Marjorie is our leader,"

Integra hummed, "I see. Wynter, you are aware of Hellsing's policy; search and destroy all supernatural and satanic threats to the crown, correct?"

At these words, Sasha felt a stab of panic rise up in her chest. Wynter cleared her throat, "Yes, Sir Integra, I'm aware," she said. Integra nodded, "Good. Are any individuals in particular a direct threat to England and Her Majesty?"

Wynter remained totally stoic, "Not that I'm aware of, Sir Integra. Rest assured, any breach in conduct is reported directly to me and the perpetrators are dealt with severely,"

To Sasha's surprise, Integra smiled slyly, "I see," she said, "Well then, it appears that no threat has caught my attention. I see no reason to send Alucard to Bristol at this time," she said.

Sasha breathed a sigh of relief and Wynter smiled, "Thank you, Sir Integra. I promise that this group is trustworthy. No vampire under my watch is going to betray your trust, I assure you," she said.

"Very good," Integra said.

Sasha felt her heartbeat ceasing slightly as Integra switched topics to question Wynter on the political state of the cabal. She couldn't believe it. Wynter had managed to stay calm during a possible death sentence for the cabal. Sasha couldn't help but admire Wynter's nerves. She couldn't imagine how many years it must have taken to stabilize them so well.

"So then," Integra said, setting her cup aside, "Sasha, how did you happen to meet Wynter?"

Sasha looked up, "Huh?" she said blandly, "Sorry, I sorta spaced out,"

Integra looked a little irritated at having to repeat herself, but she sighed, "How did you meet Wynter? You might be aware that she's quite a powerful vampire and many humans tend to avoid her. How are you different?"

"Oh. Uh, well, Wynter kinda saved my life," Sasha said, "I was about to be killed and she stepped in and saved me,"

"I see," Integra said, "I'm assuming you don't care to go into details,"

"Yeah. Sorry,"

"I understand. People are perfectly allowed to keep their secrets. Now then, the two of you are going to be staying here for quite some time. Wynter, your chamber in the sub-levels is still available if you wish to use it again,"

"Thank you, Sir Integra. Since Sasha and I started using that apartment building Marjorie acquired, I've taken to sleeping indoors more often,"

"Good. To be quite frank, nomadic vampires are rare for a very good reason. Now then, Sasha, I'll have a guest room prepared for you on the second floor. However, do you have any skills worth contributing for your board here?"

"I'm a pretty good shot," Sasha said, "And I have a thing for computers,"

"Fine. While you're here, you'll give our newer men pointers at the shooting range on occasion. I apologize, but we can't harbor just anyone, these days. Our budget is tight and you'll have to earn your keep,"

"I understand. Don't worry, I'm a good worker," Sasha said, smiling.

"That's a good attitude. Wynter, you'll be joining Alucard and Seras again. I'm sure you won't have much problem with that arrangement,"

"No, I won't. In fact, I look forward to it."

"All right then," Integra said, standing up, "Wynter, I assume you know the way, but Walter will escort you down to the sub-levels. Ms. Pevensy, I'd like to speak with you, so I'll escort you to your room," she said.

Sasha hummed, "I guess we're going to have to say goodbye then," she said to Wynter. Wynter smiled, "I'm only going to be in the basement. If you need me, you know what to do," she said.

"Right. Scream my head off,"

Integra furrowed her brow at that and sighed. Wynter chuckled and waved to Sasha as she followed Walter out of the room. Sasha was left with the enigmatic leader of the Hellsing Organization. Integra strode toward the door, glancing back at Sasha, "Come along, then," she said. Sasha jumped slightly, but hurried after her, following her down the hallway.

"So then," Integra said, "You don't seem the type to mingle with members of the undead very easily, Ms. Pevensy,"

"You mean there are people who do it on a regular basis?" Sasha asked.

"If by 'people' you mean Walter and myself, then yes, there are,"

"Oh, right, sorry," Sasha said.

"Why do you follow Wynter? She saved your life, but I can clearly see that she frightens you," Integra said. Sasha appeared uncomfortable, but she sighed, "You're right. She terrifies me. But at the same time, I respect her a lot. She's always looking out for me and protecting me. About two weeks ago, she risked her life to save me by bringing me to a convent when I was injured."

"Why would she go to such great lengths to protect you?" Integra asked.

"I don't really know. I mean, she went up against that damned Paladin to save me. He could have killed her,"

"Paladin? Do you mean Alexander Anderson?" Integra exclaimed.

"Yeah,"

"Well, in that case, Wynter's either extremely brave and dedicated, or just plain daft,"

"I take it you've met him," Sasha said dryly. Integra sighed, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, "I'm familiar," she grumbled. Sasha giggled.

Integra led her to the edge of the west wing. She opened a door at the very end of the corridor and ushered Sasha inside. The room was sparsely, though elegantly decorated. A four-poster bed was set up against the far left wall with a dresser against the wall by the foot of the bed. There was a small table and two wooden chairs placed beside it on an oriental rug situated in the center of the room. A small wooden vanity graced the far right corner. Sasha noticed that there were no mirrors in the room. Integra seemed to sense Sasha's thoughts as she stepped inside, hands folded behind her back, "Alucard has a peculiar habit of using mirrors to watch what happens in the manor," she explained, "Do not jump to conclusions. As perverted as that sounds, he only does it because there are times when I'm forced to lock him down in the sub-levels and it's his way of seeing what goes on in the world during his absence." she said somewhat dryly.

"How do you know this?" Sasha asked, "It sounds like the kind of talent that he could keep hidden,"

"Because when I was younger, I awoke to see my bedside mirror covered with dozens of red eyes staring down at me. That's how I know," she snapped, "You may come and go as you please. If you get hungry, feel free to either call for something or get it yourself. I suggest getting some rest. You'll be working with some fresh recruits tomorrow to prove how good a shot you claim to be,"

"Um, are you calling me a liar?" Sasha asked timidly.

"No. I'm simply telling you to be prompt. There's nothing I hate more than having to repeat myself."

She turned to leave. But she was halfway out the door when she paused with a small, "Oh,". She turned around, "By the way, I'd warn you not to wander at night. Alucard patrols the grounds at night and his policy is often to attack first, ask questions later. He might mistake you for a threat and by the time you realize this, it'll have been far too late,"

Sasha felt her skin crawling in fear, but she gulped and nodded, "Y-Yes ma'am," she stammered. Integra left the room without a word. Sasha was left by herself as she turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring around the room in curiosity. She missed her room back in Bristol. This place was so incredibly huge that she feared she might get lost if she so much as stepped outside.

"I wonder how Wynter's doing? I'll bet it's pretty creepy down in the basement. Integra said that there was already a room for her, there. I guess she spent some time here, before,"

Sasha got up and moved toward the ornate glass window. She pushed back the curtains, allowing the quarter moon to illuminate her entire room. She folded her arms, feeling the spot under her shirt where the wound had been stitched up. She still couldn't understand why Wynter had risked her life to save her like that. After all, in her dim memories of that night, Sasha recalled hearing Wynter tell Anderson to kill her if it meant he'd agree to save her life. Sasha knew that Wynter was using her own life as a bargaining chip to save her. Why did she try so hard to protect her? She wondered if Wynter even knew the answer to that herself.

/ooo/

Wynter sat down on the edge of her bed and sighed, "It really is good to be back," she said, "For some reason, I feel incredibly safe in these musty old catacombs,"

Walter nodded, watching her, "Of course," he said, "No one comes down here. It's the perfect place for a weary vampire to rest in safety and seclusion,"

"Before, I'd always buried myself. I never actually used this room when I was here last, except when I needed to. By the way, is Wally Copperfield still here?"

"He is. Since your departure, he finally shaped up. He's shown drastic improvement and has become captain of a small unit of fifteen men,"

Wynter hummed in approval, "Not bad. I'm impressed. It's about time the lad grew up," she remarked. Walter chuckled, "He's hardly a lad, Wynter. He's a good head taller than you are,"

Wynter undid her shawl and folded it in her lap, "From where I stand, you're all but children in my eyes," she said.

"You may have an arguably good point there," Walter said, "Alucard's told me that you were once a French aristocrat and from the research I did on you when you first arrived, I discovered this as well. However, I don't really believe it when I see you,"

"Understandable. I've all but forgotten how to speak French to begin with, and according to Marjorie, any accent I may have had has disappeared without a trace. However, Sasha tells me, sometimes in her own words, that I am the epitome of elegance, hinting to my background. But I don't see it. It would seem I spent too long in England. You people have rubbed off on me,"

"So it would seem. Now then, what do you plan to do?"

"I thought I'd test my new wings, see if I can still fly. Because they came in so quickly, I'm concerned that they didn't develop properly,"

She shifted her shoulders, unfolding her wings and stretching them out to their full length, almost ten feet each. Walter's eyes widened briefly, " Ms. Wynter, forgive me, but they seem much larger than before," he commented.

"They are. They're about five inches longer than they used to be. They should be stronger this time around. However, they're a little awkward, for some reason. I have difficulty folding them down properly, which will inevitably make it more difficult to hide," she muttered. She crossed them against her back with surprisingly more ease than Walter expected and sighed, "Guess I'll go, then," she said.

"Ms. Wynter," Walter said, "I do have a question for you. You struck me as being strictly a solitary type when you left. So why the human companion?"

Wynter paused on her way to the door, "You mean Sasha?" she asked without turning around, "Sasha claims that I saved her life. In reality, she saved mine. I owe her, and I always pay back my debts, no matter what they are,"

"You sound less than proud of that fact," Walter pointed out. Wynter hummed, "I guess I'm not happy with it right now," she told him, "I owe someone else a debt, too. I'm really not happy about this,"

"Might I be so bold as to ask who it is?"

"Anderson," she said nonchalantly. Walter faltered in alarm, but didn't say anything as Wynter left the room. Walter blinked in astonishment and sighed, shaking his head, "Now what could she have meant by that?" he wondered.

Up on the roof, the wind from the sea was blowing an enormous storm in from the east. Wynter stood up on the heliport, wings extended, hair billowing wildly behind her as she worked with the idea of whether to fly or not. She'd been looking forward to touching the sky again, but now, she wasn't sure. Lightning wouldn't kill her, but if she were to be grounded because of it while in mid-flight, she could be in danger. Instead, she wrapped her wings around herself and sat down to just enjoy the storm.

"Better safe than sorry," she muttered. The black clouds resembled an angry god lashing his wrath down upon the earth. It was eerie, but then, Wynter had faced scarier things than an enraged god. Even despite all this, for some reason, her thoughts went out to Tobias. She hadn't thought of him for a while, not since meeting Sasha, anyway.

"How are you doing, I wonder," she whispered to herself, "It's been so long. I sure hope I'm not forgetting you, Tobias."

She sighed, folding her wings against her back as she stood up with the coming rain, moving back toward the stairs. There was no way she was staying out, now.

Besides, she was tired and a good rest would do her good. Something told her that things were about to change. She felt she should be ready for it.

A/N: I've got three plots going on in this story all at once. It's really confusing maintaining them. My eyes aren't focusing today and my glasses are doing no good whatsoever, so I'm gonna call it for today. Hope you liked this chapter!


	12. Eleven

A/N: After watching _Baccano_, I realize my storytelling skills need tons of work. I mean, sure, that show made very little sense, but once you've watched it thoroughly, a small plot starts to roll together through the series of seemingly unrelated events. I'd like to be that talented someday. In any case, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and if any of you reading this are reading any of my other works, I'm taking a short break on everything. I have a show coming up soon and I've got to spend my time preparing for it.

Eleven

Several days passed.

Within the Vatican, life was taking a turn for the worst. The once proud Iscariot Organization was becoming more and more divided by the second with the presence of the twins and the absence of Father Anderson.

Enclosed in a small alcove in the western hallway, two members of Iscariot spoke quietly about the current situation. Both seemed immensely shaken and one fingered a knife concealed in his pocket.

"I don't know about this," he mumbled, "Tell me, where do you suppose Father Anderson has disappeared to?"

The other one sighed, his wrinkled old eyes squeezed shut in fear, "I can't say," he said in a hoarse voice, "But he was wise to leave. From what I understand, he was to be the first victim. I never understood why he chose to protect Maxwell all those years ago, especially considering these circumstances. Look at this now! Anderson practically raised Maxwell. That traitor,"

The younger member chuckled ruefully, "Well, Anderson did have a bit of a soft side," he said, "Of course, it's got its drawbacks. But what would possess Maxwell to turn on us like this?"

"Only the Lord knows that. He must have some kind of plan to guide us through this crisis. We've already lost two of our number. Why would Maxwell do this to us? We've served him and His Holiness so loyally all these years,"

The younger member sighed, "I heard a sour rumor that they reprimanded Maxwell's decisions. Leonard, what do you think? Could there be any truth to that rumor?"

Leonard chewed on that for a few moments, "If they stood up to him, effectively getting in the way of whatever Maxwell is plotting, Maxwell would consider that treason."

"And then, they'd be executed for the crime of treason," the other man said with a heavy sigh, "But they were then burned as heretics after their deaths. Isn't that going a bit too far? Everyone in the Iscariot Organization was chosen by the Pope himself. All of us within His sacred order are devout and trustworthy. We'd never turn our backs on him,"

Leonard scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Marcus, I'm starting to wonder if the Pope even knows what Maxwell is doing," he said under his breath. Marcus's eyes widened in alarm, but he quickly composed himself, "So what do we do about it? Oh, and there's also the matter of Anderson's trainees, Heinkel and Yumie. Where are they? Have you seen them?"

Leonard shook his head, "Yumie may have a few screws loose, but she's smart; Heinkel too. Once they got word of Anderson's departure, I'll bet you anything they went underground as soon as possible. Anderson was like a father to them. Being as close to him as they were, Maxwell would likely target them following their mentor,"

"But Maxwell was raised alongside them," Marcus said, "How can he turn on us like this?"

Leonard sighed again, this time in defeat, "I don't know. Listen, Marcus. I've been a part of the Iscariots for forty years, longer even than Anderson. I'm going to stay here and try to figure out what Maxwell is planning. Father Gregory is sending the younger members away as quietly as possible. I want you to go with them,"

Marcus frowned, "No, Father Leonard, I'm not leaving all of you. If we all die trying to set order in line again, then that's what happens,"

Leonard placed his gnarled old hand on the young man's shoulder, "Marcus, being a member of Iscariot doesn't just mean to fight to the death for what's right. If that's what it takes for us to succeed, then that's what will happen. But as long as there's a chance to resolve a situation peacefully, we'll take it. If that chance exists, then we'll fight to live, as well as to die. Remember, we fight for the Vatican and for His Holiness. I'll discover what Maxwell's up to. I want you to locate Heinkel and Yumie and try to survive for now."

Marcus sighed, his shoulders sagging, "Yes, Father Leonard," he mumbled. Leonard clapped his shoulder and nodded, "Good lad. May our Lord in Heaven look upon you with his grace and mercy. Amen,"

"Amen,"

Leonard had brought his young friend to that alcove for a certain reason. He reached to the right and pressed his palm against a single, out-of-place white brick amongst red. He pushed it in, revealing a sliding panel behind Marcus that slowly slid open. He gave Marcus a gentle shove and the young man stumbled into the passageway as Leonard closed it up again, turning to continue down the hallway alone. He knew Marcus would be disorientated in the dark passage, but there was only one pathway and Marcus would soon find himself in a secret underground tunnel leading away from the Vatican toward the oldest parts of the city where his chances of escape were greatest. Leonard, meanwhile, would meet up with the older members of Iscariot to discuss their plan and chance a meeting with His Holiness. With any luck, the Pope was still on their side and hopefully, ignorant of Maxwell's schemes.

He could only hope and pray that this crisis would soon resolve itself.

/ooo/

It was early evening.

Seras had been away when Wynter and Sasha arrived at Hellsing and the news of her sister's presence there was an extremely pleasant surprise for her. Wynter had also been delighted to see Seras again.

Seras invited her and Sasha for tea in her room, but Sasha was exhausted and opted to go rest for the evening. Wynter, wide-awake, accepted the invitation happily.

Sitting in the younger Draculina's room down in the sub-levels, Wynter stirred her tea around the cup and sighed, "Your room seems a little cozier than it used to be," she pointed out. Seras shrugged, "That's because I went back to my old apartment and retrieved a bunch of my old things," she explained, "My hairbrush, a few old dolls, some pictures, that sort of thing,"

Wynter nodded, casting her gaze around the room, "I can see," she reiterated, "Porcelain dolls, Ellis Island collection, I believe. Those are rather hard to come by,"

"I found them in an antique store about four years ago," Seras said, getting up and gently lifting one of the aged dolls from her dresser. She brought it over for Wynter to see. The dress was faded and the cloth body covered in odd black spots. The synthetic hair was matted and tangled and the lace torn in areas along the edge of the gown. Nevertheless, the doll radiated a certain beauty and charm with its warm, hazelnut eyes. Wynter hummed and tilted her head, "You know, she can actually be restored rather easily," she said.

"Really?" Seras replied, "How?"

"These stains on her dress are just results of years being passed from one person to the next. Soak the dress in a little bit of bleach and they'll come right out. As for these black spots, those are actually mold. You'll want to use a bit of detergent and scrub it off. I'm afraid that because the hair isn't real human hair, it can't be brushed. You'd only succeed in tearing it out," she instructed, handing the doll back to Seras. Seras took her gently and frowned, "I didn't know you knew so much about taking care of dolls, Wynter," she said.

"Actually, I'm quoting from a lady who worked at a doll maker's. None of this is personal experience, per se," Wynter said with a smile, "Anyway, where did you go before I got here?"

"Oh," Seras said, setting the doll back on the dresser, "Sir Integra sent me to Glasgow of all places to eliminate a couple of vampires causing trouble up there,"

"Glasgow, huh? That's a bit of a journey," Wynter said, "But you're talented nowadays, so I don't assume you had much trouble,"

"Oh no," Seras replied, "No trouble whatsoever. But I did hear some rumors about the cabal while I was there,"

Wynter sighed, swirling her tea around absently, "I expected as much," she mumbled, "A lot of vampires out there disapprove of what Marjorie's doing. But every vampire in Bristol is a member. We're considering moving our headquarters to the mainland to protect everyone in a much larger city. Should that be the case, I may not get to come back here,"

Seras appeared downcast, "...Oh," she said after a short pause. Wynter noticed and smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry," she said, "If it happens, it won't happen for a long time, yet. I'm not saying it never will, however. Marjorie isn't a strong vampire. The Iscariots now know that she's our leader, but the vampires who oppose us don't. This is why I act as Marjorie's stand-in most of the time. They automatically assume I'm the leader because I'm always heading the defensive meetings and mingling with the other members. Marjorie stays hidden in the bakery and takes care of the real work. In this way, any and all threats are directed straight at me and very little, if any attention is paid to Marjorie,"

"That's pretty clever," Seras said, "Doesn't she mind?"

"Oh, she prefers it this way. It was actually her idea to begin with. Frankly, I don't care either way, but Samantha insisted on it as well. She treats Marjorie like a daughter," Wynter explained, "Besides, Leroy may be gone, but the rest of his flunkies are still out there and thirsting for revenge against me for assimilating their leader,"

"Who's Leroy?"

"He _was _the leader of a large gathering of vampires moving to enslave humanity, rather than coexist with it. The night Sasha and I were attacked in Rome, I consumed him completely. He's now a part of me, though it disgusts me to think of it," Wynter grumbled. Seras shuddered, "That's creepy," she muttered.

"Haven't you gained any familiars yet? Your first one can be pretty much anything, you know. For example, mine was a wolf I found stalking a campground,"

"No, I haven't," Seras said thoughtfully. Then, she frowned, "Wait, wasn't your first one a raven?" she asked. Wynter raised an eyebrow, "No, it was a wolf, like I told you. Whatever gave you the idea it was a raven?"

Seras appeared uncomfortable, but shook her head, "Never mind, it's nothing," she said.

But all of a sudden, she felt a little suspicious for some reason.

/ooo/

One week passed.

Within Hellsing, Wynter was growing increasingly restless. Lately, her dreams had been filled with what she often described as bad omens. She continued to see things happen in her dreams that she was positive hadn't happened to her before. Not things that might have happened to Genevieve, but other things. In her most recent dream, she was dressed in strange clothes and walking down a dirt road that stretched for miles along the horizon against the setting western sun. No one had spoken to her then, but she'd gotten a distinct feeling of deja vu.

Wynter chose to reflect on her strange dreams of the woman called Bianca as she sat outside a small restaurant in London. Wearing a long, black billowy skirt, long sleeved white blouse and her usual shawl, Wynter had completed her ensemble with a broad-rimmed white hat to shield herself from the sun and her red eyes from passerby. Even though the fever from her erupting wings had long since dissipated, it still weakened her to the sun's power. She had a few more weeks to go before she was back to a hundred percent. She sat with a sketchbook in hand, busily capturing the life of England around her. She worked busily with her charcoal pens, nearly oblivious to everything and everyone around her.

Nearly.

She smiled slightly to herself, "Hm," she mumbled, "Something's coming. I wonder what?"

/ooo/

Deep within a darkened alleyway, someone leaned against the wall to take a short break. It hadn't been easy getting this far. But from what Anderson could tell, he'd managed to evade his pursuers...for now.

He sighed heavily and straightened up, turning to stare out at the traffic going by on the nearby streets of London. Coming to England had been his best option, short of leaving Europe altogether. He knew that Maxwell would assume he'd left the continent entirely and would search through his sources in other nations to find him. Anderson knew that for the moment, he was safe in England. He was only buying time until Maxwell caught up with him, but for now, he'd secured enough time to think about his next course of action.

He moved toward the opening between the two buildings, stepping out into the sun streaming down over the city, a rare occurrence for England this time of year. He shielded his eyes as he glanced up at the sky. Why did Nature have to pick _then_ of all days to be a scorcher? Times like this, he almost felt like God was messing with him. As strongly as he supported the Catholic faith, he knew for a fact that God often had a warped sense of humor. He knew he probably stood out some dressed as he was. But it couldn't be helped. He needed to try to get his bearings and hopefully, figure out a way to fix this mess involving the twins and Maxwell. He wasn't sure what Maxwell was planning with the twins, or why he'd ordered them to kill him right off the bat. But he knew that his and the lives of many others like him depending on how quickly he solved it.

Anderson glanced around, assessing his situation. So far, other than a few curious glances, no one had really bothered to notice him. He was searching for anything that might help him.

Instead, his gaze shifted to something rather familiar across the street. He frowned in confusion that bordered on suspicion. He knew only a few people with hair as long as that of the person across the street, and even fewer with hair as black as this. Add the stark red eyes to the image and two people came to mind; Alucard, and that fledgling of his, Wynter. Since this figure was clearly female, he knew it had to be her.

After the traffic cleared slightly, he crossed over to the other side of the street and approached, watching her carefully. She was so engrossed in the work in the sketchbook she held in her lap that she didn't notice his presence until his shadow blocked the light. Here, she paused in her work and slowly raised her head to look up at him. He expected shock at seeing him in London, or even anger at having bothered her. Instead, Wynter just blinked.

"Paladin Anderson," she said coolly, tilting her sun hat back, "Well, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Ah was aboout tae ask ye the same thing, vampire," he said. Here, Wynter smiled slightly, showing her fangs, "Well, to me, it would seem that I'm simply sitting here busily sketching the birds as they land on the sidewalk. I don't appear to be threatening anyone, do I?"

The sarcasm was evident. Wynter folded the cover of the sketchbook down and crossed one leg over the other, regarding him blankly, "So what brings you to London? Are you here to challenge either Alucard or myself to a duel to the death, Mad Priest?"

"Would ye stop calling meh that!" he snapped.

"Come now, the mad priest I'm comparing you to was hardly fit for his name. Haven't you read one of Alexandre Dumas' classics, _The Count of Monte Cristo_? You seem like the type who reads avidly,"

Anderson sighed in irritation, "Aye, Ah've read it," he growled.

"I thought so,"

"What are ye doing here?" he demanded to know.

"Sitting here, sketching, enjoying some fresh air and avoiding the heat," Wynter answered as she set the book on the table beside her. She cast a quick glance up at him and then nodded to the right, "Why don't you sit down?" she asked.

"What?"

"You must be crazy to walk around like that when it's this warm out. It's cooler under the awning, so sit down. I can't have you getting heat stroke when I still owe you for saving Sasha's life," Wynter said. Anderson stayed back at first. While she did have a point about how warm it was, something in the back of his mind was warning him that she might be up to something. After all, vampires couldn't be trusted, right?

"I know what you're thinking," Wynter said suddenly, jarring him from his thoughts, "You're thinking that I'm up to something, that I'm trying to trick you. Believe me, if I'd been trying, you'd have long since been hoodwinked without even knowing it; I'm far more crafty than Alucard is. I'm not up to anything and I'm certainly not up to no good. Wait, how many negatives did I just use in that sentence?"

"Three," he said blandly. Wynter smiled, "Oh, you were keeping track. Thanks. Anyway, sit down and get out of the sun for a little bit. If you haven't noticed, it's hot out, today." she said.

Again, she still had a point. It was hot out, and the table was beneath the shaded awning, so he decided he'd take her up on the offer, but he wasn't letting his guard down. He sat down across the table from her, watching her warily as she took the sketchbook up again. A small sparrow had perched on the back of another chair a few feet away and Wynter was hurriedly etching it onto the paper before it took off, which it did seconds later. She cursed under her breath and set the book down again before glancing at him curiously, "So what brings you to London?" she asked.

"It's no' any o' yer business, vampire," he growled.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I came here to get away from Hellsing for a little bit,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed. Wynter sighed and looked out toward the road, "I can see you still don't trust me," she muttered.

"What's wi' the sudden kindness, vampire? Since when dae ye care what happens tae humans?" Anderson snapped.

"Actually, I feel I should correct you. I care quite a bit what happens to humans. I inherited Alucard's fondness for them. It took a few decades, but I've come to find humans very admirable. Besides that, I used to _be _a human, or so I'm told. But to answer your first question, it's quite simple. Yes, we're enemies and yes, you'll probably try to kill me again sometime in the near future, but there's nothing saying we can't be civilized outside the field of battle. So then, I was about to order some iced tea. Would you care for some?"

He seemed to mull it over. She could tell he was tempted, but she was considerate enough not to say anything. She didn't expect that a priest would want to be reminded of this fact. Finally, he sighed in defeat, the dry weather overcoming his misgivings, "Aye," he grumbled, "Sae long as ye doon't put anything weird in it,"

Wynter rolled her eyes as she called a waiter over and placed her order. When he'd gone, she fixed a serious glare on the paladin, "Listen, Anderson," she said, " I don't know what kind of scum vampire you take me for, but I am very proud of my status. Trust me, when we face each other in battle again, you'll be armed, fully alert, and in top form, ready to tear my heart out. Understand?" she said calmly, but with an air of irritation. Anderson said nothing. He glanced up as the waiter came back with the glasses and set them on the table. He fixed a suspicious glare first at the waiter, then at the glass, and finally on Wynter. She rolled her eyes again, "I don't even know him!" she insisted. He still didn't appear convinced so she sighed, reached forward and switched her glass with his, sitting back and folding her arms, "Happy?"

"Nae, no' really," he answered. Wynter shook her head and pulled the container of sugar closer to her. She took her spoon and ladled four spoonfuls of sugar into her tea. She stirred it in and took a sip, cringing and going for more sugar. Anderson just watched, one eyebrow raised, baffled, "Ah take it ye're partial tae sweet things," he remarked. Wynter shrugged, "Well, believe it or not, sugar actually dulls my blood-lust. You realize my thirst never completely goes away unless I drink it fresh from the veins of my prey. The transfusion bags that Integra provides us with only deaden it for a short period of time, making it slightly more bearable."

"All right, enough o' this," he growled, "What are ye planning?"

"Would you chill out? I'm not planning anything. If you must know, I'm being hospitable toward you because I respect you. You are, after all, the only foe I have that I actually consider a threat," she said, taking a drink of her tea, "Over the years, I've had many enemies and ended up killing most of them. You're the only one that can truly threaten me, and I'm a firm believer in respecting your enemies. Therefore, I respect you most of all,"

Anderson grumbled to himself, "Ye may have ae point," he said grudgingly.

"Of course I do. Many years spent on this earth have presented me with wisdom. Wait and see what a few hundred more years will do for me,"

Anderson could hardly believe it. He was the enemy of all vampires, the Vatican's most powerful anti-vampire agent. Yet here he was, sitting outside of a local restaurant in London and more or less making small talk with a vampire, whom he might add acted nothing like her sire, his sworn enemy. She looked like Alucard, she fought like him, and her powers rivaled his, yet she was nothing like him at all. She was sitting outside and sketching as though she were an ordinary human. He just couldn't place how she was so different from other vampires he'd met. There was a certain...almost elegance about her. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke, all of it, plus whatever it was that still puzzled him, equaled a single, individual vampire that he just couldn't bring himself to destroy. Not, yet, anyway.

He sensed that she was watching him. He looked up and saw that he was right. She'd set her book down and was staring at him blankly, those red eyes seemingly looking right through him. She frowned, "Something happened, didn't it?" she said, "You're not hunting this time, are you?"

How in the hell did she know that?

"I can tell," she continued, "Something's wrong. For whatever reason, you're in hiding, aren't you? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nae, Ah doon't, vampire," he snapped. He winced internally when he realized that he'd just confirmed to her that something was indeed wrong. She smirked at the hidden, mistaken meaning in his voice. She chuckled and sighed, "Okay, okay, you still don't trust me, that's fine," she said, "However, hiding the truth from me will do you no good. Something drastic has happened to you, Father Anderson,"

"Hoo could ye tell that?" he asked.

"Your blood smells weak, as though it's been pumped through your heart at an exorbitant rate over the past few days. Also, your heart sounds weak as well, not to mention how exhausted you seem. I don't have to be a vampire to tell that much, Anderson. You're tired and weary from some kind of long journey. I assume you got here using some unorthodox method," she stated, not merely assumed. Anderson cursed to himself. He'd been sure he was hiding it well, too. Wynter glanced knowingly at him, "In case you're wondering, I have no special abilities that allow me to know all this. Just enhanced senses that, for whatever reason, come with the territory of being what I am," she said simply.

Anderson clenched his fists. Yes, she was right with what she'd said. He _was_ exhausted. But he wasn't about to admit how correct she was.

"So," she continued, "Drink your tea, already, before it warms up. I can tell you're dehydrated, by the way,"

"What?"

"Your fatigue may also be a result of this. Add the fact that your skin is slightly flushed and I'd definitely diagnose mild dehydration. It's quite obvious you're thirsty, Anderson. Being the wielder of 'God's divine gift' or whatever it's called, I'd imagine that you have a higher tolerance for this sort of thing, but I'd recommend not pushing your luck."

Anderson just frowned at the glass and then at her. Wynter chuckled, "What? You don't like it? Well, if that's the case, you should have said something," she said mirthfully. Anderson growled under his breath and turned to her, "Yer making fun o' me, aren't ye?" he grumbled.

"I would never," she replied sincerely. She returned her gaze to her work. Anderson just stared out at the street. He heard Wynter hum suddenly and glanced over at her curiously, "What?" he asked.

She was gazing out at the street, leaning her head in her hand on the table, "I miss the old days," she commented, "Traffic these days is noisy and smells awful. I miss the days when horse drawn carriages were the only mode for transport,"

"That was well o'er ae hundred years ago," he remarked.

"True, but it was also common at the beginning of this century. I've only been on this dark island for about thirty years, mind you, living in Bristol as you're well aware. It's peaceful, there. Well, at least until you came along,"

"Ah'm doing mah job, vampire," he snapped.

"Please keep your voice down; the entire city doesn't need to know what I am, thank you," Wynter said calmly. She glanced out toward the street and her eyes went wide all of a sudden. She lashed out to try to stop the out-of-control ball as it smashed into the table, hurling her glass over and splattering her with its contents, effectively drenching her.

"What the—?" Anderson exclaimed. Wynter snagged the ball before it smashed through the windows beside her and groaned in irritation. She glared to the left as two kids appeared, a boy and a young girl. The boy grinned sheepishly, "Uh, I'm really, really sorry about that," he said, "It got away from me,"

"So I see," Wynter grumbled. She tossed the ball lightly at him. He caught it and sighed, "I'm really sorry. If I had any money, I'd pay for that, but..." he mumbled, trailing off. It was Wynter's turn to sigh, "It's fine. It's not that big a deal," she said.

"You mean, you're not mad?" the girl said hopefully. Wynter blinked in surprise and smiled, "Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little irritated, but no, I'm not mad. Things happen," she said, "It's only human to make mistakes. Now, run along and try to be a little more careful, okay?"

"We will," the boy promised, taking the girl's hand and hurrying away.

"Watch out for cars!" Wynter called after them. She hummed and picked up her soggy napkin, staring at it briefly before setting it down, "Well, that was a waste of perfectly good tea," she said. Across from her, Anderson shook his head wearily, "Ah was sure ye'd gae ballistic, there," he said, "Glad tae see Ah was worrying faur nothing,"

"Contrary to your beliefs, I'm actually quite reasonable. Kids will be kids, and humans will be humans to the very end," Wynter said. Anderson scowled, "Dae ye have any idea hoo long it took meh to figure that oot?" she growled. Wynter chuckled, "Really? How strange, I've always known it. But really, it isn't like I'm going to snap one of these days. I used to be an aristocrat after all," she said, trying to brush the tea from her hands and sleeves, "Ugh, I'm all sticky now," she grumbled.

She reached beside her and picked up her sketchbook. Fortunately, it managed to avoid getting splattered. She flipped it open and picked up her pencil, "Well, I guess I might as well get back to work," she mumbled, "That's so disappointing, honestly,"

She sighed and resumed sketching, this time starting on a car parked across the street. As she began the basic outline, she heard a dull, scraping sound off to her right. She frowned and glanced over. Anderson had pushed his glass across the table and was now sitting with his head braced against his upraised hand, staring out at the traffic. Wynter blinked in surprise, "Uh," she started to say.

"Ah'm no' thirsty, vampire," Anderson grumbled. Wynter inclined her head slightly and smiled, "Well, that's very kind of you, Mad Priest," she said. He glared over at her, but said nothing as he returned his gaze to the street.

/ooo/

Twilight came over the land without warning, as it always did. The bustling of London's streets began to die down as people returned to their homes.

Having virtually nowhere to go, Anderson had remained sitting outside the restaurant for the better part of the day. Wynter stayed as well, partly because she had nothing else to do and partly to keep him company. She felt that something was very wrong with him and figured he might need it. Humans weren't designed to be all alone like vampires were. Vampires could take loneliness or leave it; humans couldn't.

By this point, she'd grown bored of sketching and sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, enjoying the cool evening air. Occasionally, she'd glance over at her stoic companion. He hadn't said a word in hours. He just stared blankly at the ground. She frowned. His spirit was weary and almost...broken. She wondered what on earth could have happened to subdue him like this. She'd known him for a long time, but never once had she seen him in such a state. It was a little saddening.

Even though the restaurant was closing up, the waiter didn't tell them to leave. He seemed to sense it too, that something wasn't right. Besides, it wasn't like they were breaching any of the house rules. The table was outside and it didn't really matter.

Wynter gazed up at the reddening sky laced with orange and tinges of pink. The sunsets in London were truly beautiful and she thanked her lucky star that she was tolerant to sunlight, enabling her to witness such spectacles.

She glanced over at him again. The sunlight reflected off his glasses, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. Even when the sun's light finally died to a faint glow on the horizon, blanketing the city in darkness, Wynter remained with him. Sure, he was her enemy, but she just didn't feel right leaving him like that. Besides, it wasn't like the night bothered her. She could see better, hear better and felt more awake. What concerned her was the possibility that Alucard might come looking for her.

She hummed lightly, "Hey," she said without looking at him, "Are you okay? You haven't spoken and you've barely moved for hours,"

He just sighed heavily, but didn't answer. It almost seemed like he was irritated. Wynter cast a quick look at him, "I know you don't trust me," she pointed out, "But I'm not about to leave you in this state. It's pretty obvious you've had your entire world shattered, Anderson,"

"And what gives ye that idea?" he grumbled.

"Simple. I've been through the same thing several times, myself,"

His eyes shifted to look suspiciously at her. Questioningly. "Ye have, huh?"

"Yes, I have. I'm no stranger to this type of thing. Heck, the first time, I don't even remember what happened. I only know that it led to my becoming what I am today. If it hadn't happened, I wouldn't be sitting here right now. I'd be long dead, buried, and forgotten about,"

She looked over at him knowingly, "So then, with this in mind, may I ask what happened?"

"Why dae ye even care?"

"You're my greatest rival. Alucard isn't your only opponent, Anderson. You're the only person alive who can truly threaten me aside from Alucard. I can't have my foe losing confidence in himself, now can I?"

Anderson actually chuckled dryly, "Nae, Ah suppose no'," he muttered. Wynter smiled and nodded, "There, already that's a little better. And it only took six hours,"

He looked up, an expression of surprise on his face, "What?"

"I guess you wouldn't have noticed. We've been sitting here for a little over seven hours, now," she told him cheerfully.

"That ae fact? Sae then why are ye still here?" he asked.

"Come now, I wasn't about to leave you when you were in a state like that. The proof is right here; you didn't even know how much time had passed until I told you. If my master, or whoever is chasing you had discovered you here, you'd hardly have been in the shape to fight back. Besides, you're human, after all,"

"And what's that supposed tae mean?"

"Humans just aren't meant to be all alone. Mortal enemy or not, I just felt like you could have used the company."

He scowled and clenched his fist, "If ye're trying tae fool meh, ye're doing a poor job o' it," he snapped.

Wynter sighed and stood up, gathering her sketchbook into her arms, "For the last time, no one's fooling anyone. After all, isn't the Catholic faith about helping your neighbors? Hm?" she said. This bit stunned him slightly and Wynter tipped her hat, smiling, "And now, it seems that you're doing much better than you were before, which means my job is done and I can go home without worrying,"

She reached into the lining of her shawl and fished around for something. She seemed to find it and pulled it out, "You might not want to tell me what happened and with this in mind, I can't help you. But I can offer help if you ever decide you want it," she said. She held out something in her hand. Anderson hesitated, glaring at her skeptically. He held his hand out to accept the object. Wynter gave him the little brooch with the Hellsing coat of arms decorating the front. He frowned curiously, "What's this?"

"Collateral. If for any reason you ever need help, use this to safely approach Hellsing's headquarters to contact me. It goes without saying that no one there will trust you unless you at least have proof that one member does,"

He gritted his teeth together angrily, "Doon't ye dare patronize me, vampire!" he snapped, bolting up and grabbing the collar of her shawl, lifting her off her feet and practically throttling her in the process. Wynter managed to remain collected, "I wouldn't dare," she said calmly, staring him right in the eye.

"Sae then what are ye trying tae say?" he hissed.

"Only that I'm willing to help if you need it. I have no desire to attempt to take advantage of you in your weakened state, nor do I intend to inform anyone of your whereabouts without your consent for me to do so. Now then, would you please release me?"

He did so gruffly, stepping back and glaring at her. Wynter fixed her hat and folded her arms, "Don't mistake me for the type of scum that takes advantage of others," she said coldly, "I've already given you my reasoning. No further explanation is possible, nor is it required. So then, you now have a way to contact me if you ever desire help. Don't forget, I owe you a debt and I intend to keep it. And with that, I bid you good night, good luck, and farewell," she said. She turned and walked away, slowly vanishing into the darkness along the street. Anderson watched her go, not sure whether he should trust her or not. He looked down at the item he held, the brooch with Hellsing's coat of arms. She claimed it was a way he could use to contact her if ever he needed help. Ordinarily, he'd have scoffed at the idea of ever requesting help from a vampire. But with his current circumstances, he was forced to admit that it may be entirely possible that she could help him. He was running for his life from a once-trusted partner. His comrades were very likely being persecuted and he was unable to do a thing about it. He wasn't even sure if he could trust the Pope, the very man who chose him to be a part of the Iscariots in the first place. He had no way of knowing whether or not the Pope had any involvement in Maxwell's insane scheme.

As much as he detested the idea, he knew that perhaps the only person he could trust who could readily help him was the very same creature he despised and desired to kill above all else.

Wynter might very well be his only chance.

A/N: Dang I hope Anderson's still in character. When I write, I make it a point to keep everyone as in-character as possible. Thankfully, I have MarzBarz to help me with that. Thanks a ton, MarzBarz-chan! You people, wait until you read her Get Backers fanfic that she's writing and will soon publish. It's the cutest thing in the entire world, I guarantee it! ^_^


	13. Twelve

A/N: Last update for a while. There's no cliffhanger on this one, MarzBarz, so you can relax. I seriously have to stop slacking around and get to work on my projects for the show this fall. In any case, the little twists are beginning to reveal themselves, so people, pay attention! At least those of you actually reading this thing. Thanks MarzBarz and Alucard-Nightroad-chan! You guys are the best!

Twelve

_"It's so beautiful. Up until this point, I'd never really taken the time to examine the mountains like this. I was so absorbed in my duties that I completely disregarded it," _

_ "I assure you, you will have plenty of time to admire their beauty. That being said, I'm sure you'd agree with me, given the circumstances," _

_ She turned around to gaze gratefully at the shadowed figure standing in the shade of the stone tower. She nodded once, wisely, "You're quite right. I cannot thank you enough for your help, my lord," _

_ "I am not so cruel that I would ignore a woman in evident distress," _

_ She smiled, "I know. And I thank you for it," _

_ "You're quite welcome,"_

/ooo/

Wynter bolted up, smacking her head on the lid of the coffin covering her bed. Groaning, she fumbled around for the switch box and opened it up, draping her feet over the edge, "Ow," she grumbled, "Damn it, that hurt,"

She sighed and got to her feet, stretching and moving over to her table where Walter had left a bag of blood on ice. She picked it up, tore off the end and stuck it in her mouth, chewing on it absently as she sucked out the contents, "That dream again," she muttered, staring off into the distance, "But I wonder, who was I talking to? It sounded familiar, whoever he was,"

She drained the bag and moaned, still hungry, "There's never enough blood in one of those things. I'll have to ask master if I can raid his stash once in a while," she mumbled.

She changed her clothes, choosing a new outfit Sasha had put together for her. It was a dull pink top with bell sleeves and a wide-neck collar and scarlet sash about her waist. She added the plain black dress pants that went with it and tied her hair back with a scarf the same color as the shirt. It was actually very pretty. Wynter examined her reflection in the mirror and nodded approvingly. Once in a great while, her feminine side kicked in and she enjoyed dressing up for no other reason than to look appealing to the eye.

She left her room, deep within the confines of the sub-levels and made her way upstairs. She was tired and it was already evening. The entire of yesterday and part of the night had been spent in London. She'd neglected to inform Alucard of Anderson's presence in the city. For whatever reason, the priest was hiding here. Wynter did, however, feel the need to inform Integra of the current situation and let her know that she'd extended her help to him if he needed it. She doubted that Integra would understand, but fortunately, if Anderson decided to use this to his advantage and attempt an attack, she and Alucard were more than capable of dealing with him. Wynter scowled; she didn't take betrayal lightly. She prayed that Anderson understood his situation by accepting the Hellsing brooch and Wynter's trust. To betray her was synonymous with death, as far as Wynter was concerned. She knew her motto sounded like something straight out of the mafia, but with her way of life, it was a necessity.

She made her way up toward the second floor where Integra's office was located. A couple of veterans of Hellsing were preparing to pass her along the same hallway. Wynter instinctively steeled her gaze and strode past them without a word. They paused to stare after her curiously, but Wynter paid them no mind.

"Hey, isn't that that vampire from last year?" she heard one of them say.

"Yeah, I thought she left. What's she doing back here?"

"I don't know. Should I ask her?"

"...Eh, if you want to..."

"Hey!" the one man called. But Wynter continued on without looking back, even as he called a few more times. It was clear he'd forgotten her name and referred to her simply as vampire-girl. Wynter ignored him and they eventually gave up and moved on. Before she got out of earshot of their conversation, she heard one of them say, "Man, she's Alucard's kid all right; she's just like him,"

"Tell me about it. We're lucky to get two words outta him," his companion said. Wynter smiled bemusedly. Like Alucard, she chose only to speak to humans when she felt like it. Otherwise, she didn't bother. Most humans, unfortunately, didn't know heads or tails about holding a decent conversation. But she did find it rather amusing that they thought she was Alucard's daughter.

She reached the office and knocked twice on the door.

"_Come in,_"

Wynter pushed open the door and stepped inside. Integra was speaking with Walter and glanced up stonily, "Wynter," she said, "What brings you here?"

"I've come to inform you of an interesting development," Wynter said.

"Come in, then," Integra told her. Wynter did so, closing the door behind her. She approached the desk, stopping in the center of the room.

"Sir Integra," she began, "I'll skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. Alexander Anderson has arrived in London as of late yesterday afternoon,"

Integra's eyes flickered dangerously, "He has, has he? Tell me, how do you know this?"

"I spent most of the day sketching outside. He approached me, but didn't attack. The rest of the day was spent trying to determine why he's come here. It would seem that he's on the run, Sir Integra," Wynter said.

"On the run?" Walter said incredulously, "Whatever from, I wonder?"

"He refused to tell me. I got the sense that something was incredibly wrong if it drove him away from Rome. He's in London, now, hiding. I've given him the brooch bearing the Hellsing coat of arms, Sir Integra, extending my assistance toward him should he require it.

"You what?" Integra asked in alarm.

"Sir Integra, my instincts are never wrong. Something is amiss in the Vatican, I'm sure of it. Anderson wasn't hunting. The entire time I was there, he spent six hours in total melancholic silence. He didn't even notice anything I said to him."

Integra folded her hands beneath her chin, eying Wynter skeptically, "Lets' assume that I believe you," she said, "What could be so amiss within the Vatican that it would drive away their best supernatural defensive agent? And why would he come here, of all places?"

"I can provide a theory for the latter, Sir Integra," Walter cut in, "It seems to me that Anderson came here to avoid whatever he's running from. Whoever, or whatever it is, would look here, last. It's the best place to hide because it's the last place they'd think to look,"

Integra frowned, "That makes sense. Now Wynter, I'm aware that Anderson has tried and failed four times to kill you,"

"Five, but who's counting?" Wynter said ruefully, "You're correct. He made no attempt at my life this time. I even toyed around with him and he still kept his distance. I assure you, Sir Integra, something is wrong. I've never seen him like this,"

Integra hummed, "So you gave him the brooch, then?"

"I did. I told him that he could use that to get in contact with me if he needed to. I felt I should let you know before he decides to, if he decides to,"

Integra nodded, "A wise move, Wynter. All that's left now is to wait. Oh, and to keep Alucard from finding out, of course,"

"That goes without saying, ma'am," Wynter said with a smile. With that, she turned and left without another word. Integra stared after her, frowning. She hummed slightly.

"Sir Integra," Walter said, "Is something wrong?"

"She troubles me, Walter,"

Walter frowned concernedly, "Ma'am? Forgive me, but I'm confused. Why does Wynter trouble you?"

Integra sighed, "It's been over a decade. I've known Alucard for a long time. I can predict nearly every move he makes. I know him through and through. There's not a card he can play that I don't already know. The same goes for Seras. I don't necessarily know her, but she's incredibly predictable. She's an open book, Walter. It's easy to see what she may or may not do,"

She sighed and got to her feet, moving to the window, "But Wynter...I don't know, Walter. There's something about her that's more terrifying than Alucard could ever hope to accomplish. Wynter operates with her own unknowable logic. Allying with her greatest enemy is a move even I couldn't foresee. I can't explain it, but I get a sense of something horrifying lurking just out of reach within her dark soul, Walter. Those eyes hide a deadly secret and I have to wonder; does she herself even know how dangerous she really is?"

/ooo/

The pained cries died away in the catacombs of the Vatican as the two men fell, cut down by Giuseppe's sword. Giuseppe straightened up, his face blank of all expression as he flicked the blood from the heavy blade. Maxwell came up behind him, arms folded behind his back as he sighed heavily, "It's such a shame that so many of my comrades don't approve of you, my boy," he said sadly.

Giuseppe stared straight ahead, not answering. Maxwell eyed the bodies of the fallen Iscariot members with evident distaste, countering his words from a few seconds before. Those men had directly disregarded Maxwell's experiment, calling his work a shameful example of corruption in the eyes of God. They blamed Maxwell for Anderson's disappearance and the sudden fleeing of Yumie and Heinkel to unknown locations. Now, Iscariot was dividing. Most of the younger members had fled, being inexperienced and raw. Many of the older members, Maxwell had managed to usurp completely, although he suspected they were simply biding their time. It was all right; it didn't matter what they did, so long as they stayed out of the way. Maxwell was glad that they hadn't said anything.

But as for Father Leonard and Father Benedict, things hadn't been so simple. Maxwell sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes, "I just don't understand. What I'm doing will ultimately benefit our organization. It will reinstate the glory of our God to His rightful place in this world. There are simply too many heretics, these days. They won't be saved! They need to be punished, _now!_ Judgment day is still too far off. By then, Catholicism may end up perishing, crushed beneath the weight of so many pagan gods and sinners."

He placed his hand on Giuseppe's head, "And you, my boy, and of course your sister, too, you will pave the way for our Lord to come again, to a world pure of heretics and heathens."

He cast one final glance at the mangled bodies of the two old men lying stone dead on the floor. He turned Giuseppe away and returned to the inner lab where Edmond was busily typing away on his computer, oblivious to his presence. Maxwell's eyes narrowed at Mireille sitting on the floor, playing with a rosary she'd delicately taken apart. Maxwell supposed it was fine as long as she put it back together again when she was finished. After all, it had started out in pieces to begin with before it was created.

Maxwell strode over to Edmond, who jumped at his arrival, "S-S-Sir!" he stammered, "I'm s-s-still working!"

"I never said you weren't. Did you find him, yet?"

"W-Well, n-no s-s-sir. I can't t-t-track s-s-someone who d-d-doesn't have a t-tracker on them,"

Maxwell sighed and shook his head, "Curse it all. There's no telling where he's gone to by now. And what of the other two?"

"All t-traces have v-v-vanished w-without warning, s-s-sir,"

Maxwell scowled angrily, "We don't have time for all of these setbacks," he snarled. Edmond, visibly twitching, opened his mouth to hesitantly reply, "Uh, s-s-sir, m-might I h-h-hazard a q-q-question?"

"What is it?"

"If y-y-you don't mind-d-d, I w-was wondering w-w-why it's n-necessary to k-kill him. A-After all, he's n-not c-c-coming back-k-k, right?"

Maxwell straightened up, folding his arms behind his back, "That's where you're wrong, Edmond," he said, "He'll come back at some point. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, but he'll come back. His comrades are here, as well as everything he left behind. Besides, it's clear he'll try to stop me at some point. He's just as deluded as those fools outside the door. He doesn't understand the magnitude of this experiment,"

"B-But why k-k-kill him?" Edmond stammered. Contrary to belief, he wasn't nervous. Stuttering was just something he couldn't stop himself from doing.

"Because he'll only get in the way," Maxwell said, "Yes, he took care of us years before, but with the future comes advancements. Sometimes, older, more outdated things need to be set aside to make way for the new generation. In this case, Anderson is no longer useful as an agent of Iscariot. His human emotions sometimes cloud his vision. Now, it's time for Giuseppe and Mireille to take the first step into the future of Iscariot,"

He leaned in closer to Edmond, who started anxiously, "And," Maxwell continued, "The plans that I have in store for Holy Sword and Holy Shield, as well as the future experiments that will soon join them, will soon come to pass as God's divine wrath on earth. At this point, nothing can stop us, right Edmond?"

"R-R-Right, s-s-sir," Edmond muttered as Maxwell strode out. But as the door closed and Edmond was left with the two children sitting on the floor, staring at the scattered red beads without speaking, he sighed. Working with Maxwell was starting to put a strain on him, but physically and mentally. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

/ooo/

_**Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Please, answer me...**_

___"What? Who's there? Who's calling me?" _

_**Please, answer me...**_

___"Who are you?" _

_**I'm going to cross over soon. Will you be ready? **_

___"Wait, what do you mean? Who are you?" _

_**Bianca**_

Wynter's eyes snapped open, blazing within the darkness of her coffin. This time, she remembered where she was and didn't smack her head on the closed lid. She stared at the low ceiling, blinking slowly in the darkness at the reflection of her blazing eyes searing through the darkness. She brought her hand up, staring at it blankly.

"Bianca," she muttered, "I've heard your voice in my other dreams. Just who in the world are you?"

She opened the lid and sat up, sighing wearily. Because this woman named Bianca had been infiltrating her dreams, she hadn't slept well.

And she wasn't the only one who noticed.

Wynter glanced around in expectancy as Alucard warped through the stone wall dividing their chambers. He turned to face her, his face serious for once.

"I could sense your restlessness, Wynter," he remarked.

"Oh you could, could you?" Wynter said as she stood up, moving to sit down at the table, "I suppose that's to be expected. So, are you going to ask what I saw?"

"It crossed my mind," Alucard said, taking a seat opposite her and folding his arms.

"I don't think the woman I see in my dreams is Genevieve, master," Wynter said, "I have reason to believe that Genevieve and I have finally become one being. No, the woman I see in her place is someone else entirely. She calls herself Bianca,"

Alucard hummed, frowning. Wynter cocked an eyebrow curiously, "What? That name ring a bell?"

Alucard hesitated, "No," he said finally, "It doesn't,"

Wynter sighed. He was lying. She couldn't figure out how he might be lying, or why, but he was. His reason for lying, Wynter felt strangely compelled to know. But her awareness of his stubborn will was stronger, so she kept silent. Instead, she set about braiding her hair out of sheer boredom.

"I want to know who she is," Wynter said.

Alucard sighed, "Wynter, you're still young and have many things you still have to learn about being a vampire. One of those things is that sometimes, it's better to leave well enough alone; that what you desire to know may find its way to you, rather than the other way around,"

Wynter regarded him silently, "Master, how old are you, anyway?"

He grinned ruefully, "Five-hundred and twenty-three years, give or take a few," he said with evident pride in his voice.

"Do you think you'll make it to a complete millennium?" Wynter asked, resuming her braiding.

"I've made it more than halfway already. I don't see why not. Wynter, tell me something. How did you cope with the knowledge of your extended lifespan?"

"Cope?" Wynter said disinterestedly, "I didn't need to cope, master. I had no memories of being human. In fact, until you told me, I didn't recall ever _being_ a human. I had no idea that my lifespan had once been so short and fast. Yes, I sacrificed many things to become a vampire, including any chance at true happiness, but I believe it was worth it in the long run,"

Why do you say that?"

Wynter smiled enigmatically, "Because I get to experience this amazing world forever, now. Someday, I want to leave this country. I want to visit other worlds, meet new people and foreign vampires. I want to learn new languages and study other cultures. With an eternity ahead of me, I have so much I want to learn and the humans keep creating new things to explore and experience. You were right, master,"

Alucard smiled slightly, "Remind me what I was right about," he said.

"Humans truly _are_ magnificent,"

/ooo/

Sasha watched in amazement as Seras walked beside her, wearing a heavy hooded coat in the daytime heat, perusing the windows of the various stores.

"I didn't know you had sun tolerance," Sasha pointed out.

"I don't," Seras replied, "I have to cover myself like this whenever I go out. Well, I suppose that's sort of a lie. I have a very slight amount of tolerance, enough that being out in daylight won't affect me. But I'll scorch badly if exposed,"

"So then," Sasha said uncertainly, "Vampires really don't spontaneously com-bust when exposed to sunlight,"

Seras snorted and burst out laughing, "You actually believe that old myth?" she exclaimed, causing passerby to stare in bewilderment. Seras lowered her voice, "No, we don't explode into flames in sunlight. We just burn extremely quickly and extremely badly. Master explained that human skin retains moisture, keeping it cool and flexible. When we're turned, that moisture is taken away somehow. This makes our skin more susceptible to the sun's burning rays. It'll shrivel and die more quickly, that's all,"

"And what about a stake through the heart? I always used that when I hunted other vampires," Sasha said. Seras sighed heavily, "Yeah, of course that's gonna work, Sasha. Seriously, a stake through the heart would kill _anyone_, for Pete's sake. Why are vampires so special when it comes to that technique?"

Sasha reddened in embarrassment, "Yeah, I guess you're right. And garlic?"

"One of my favorite smells."

"Holy water?"

"Stings a tiny bit,"

"Silver?"

"Ouch! Even the sound of it is painful!"

"Holy artifacts?" Sasha continued, growing more desperate.

"Re-visit the holy water issue,"

"Um...oh, invitation into buildings— Uh, never mind," Sasha said as Seras suddenly paused and grabbed a pocketbook off the ground, rushing into the shop a few feet away to return it to the woman who dropped it seconds before. She stepped back out and fell into step beside her, "What was that last one?"

"Just forget it; it's clearly not the case," Sasha muttered, astounded at how many myths concerning vampire repellant and destruction were false.

"Lets' see," she mumbled, scratching her chin, "Can you turn into a bat?"

"Not yet. Master hasn't taught me how. He's not confident I'll pull it off," she grumbled.

"I don't blame him, seeing how you keep getting stuck in the walls," Sasha snickered, "Okay, the sound of the Lord's name causes you to flinch?"

Seras blinked, "Nope, not flinching," she said. Sasha sighed and scratched her head, "I'm almost out of stuff," she muttered, "Okay, you don't cast a reflection, do you?"

She froze when she looked over and saw Seras fixing her hat beside a shop window, moving it around until she was satisfied. Sasha's eyes scrunched shut and she clenched her fists, "Damn it! Where did all of these dumb myths come from? Half of them don't even work!" she snapped. Seras giggled and turned back around, "Don't get so discouraged, Sasha," she said, "Don't forget, I'm the fledgling of the Vampire King; I'm bound to be more resilient toward those old myths than regular vampires. I'll let you in on a secret, though,"

"What?" Sasha muttered irritably. Seras paused and pointed out toward the London Bridge, "That bridge over there is my favorite thing in this whole city,"

"Uh...we crossed it to get over here," Sasha said, "So why?"

Seras smiled pleasantly, "Because without it, crossing the Thames River would be impossible without a boat filled with soil," she said, "So even the most powerful vampires have difficulty crossing running water without human intervention,"

Sasha hummed, slightly comforted that at least one myth was true. Seras clapped her on the back, "Good. Now, it's my turn to ask you a question,"

"What?"

"Why did you agree to go shopping with me? If I recall, you hate vampires,"

Sasha sighed, gazing up at the sky, "I only hate vampires because a vampire's the reason my parents are dead," she told her, "But after meeting Wynter, I started to realize that maybe vampires aren't all alike,"

"Well of course we aren't, but that doesn't answer my question," Seras said bemusedly. Sasha smiled sheepishly, "Well, I guess it's because I kind of like you. You remind me of Wynter," she said.

"You sure are fond of my sister," Seras remarked, "You seem more like a sister to her than I am,"

"I guess it's 'cause that's the way it's been. When we first met, she treated me like a total nuisance and tried to kill me a few times. But she's always looking after me and keeping me safe from the vampires we're always running into. But sometimes, I wish I could do something to help her, for once," Sasha said wistfully. Seras frowned in consternation, but shrugged, "That's kind of a difficult wish, Sasha," she said, "Wynter's much older than I am and has had a lot of experience as a vampire. She can look after herself pretty easily,"

Sasha nodded, "I'm aware of that. I just wish that for once, I could protect her from something,"

"Eh, maybe you'll get the chance. After all, you've got maybe sixty, seventy more years or so to try, right?" Seras said in what she hoped was an encouraging tone of voice. Fortunately, Sasha seemed to catch the meaning of her words. She smiled and nodded, "Yeah, you're right," she said, "You know, she told me something funny once. She said that someday, she'll become the vampire I tell my kids about, the one who hides just out sight, keeping an eye on them from the shadows. Weird, huh?"

Seras laughed, "That sounds like something she'd say. You should be thrilled. With Wynter watching over your family someday, there's not a chance anything bad could happen to them,"

"Huh? You mean she was serious?" Sasha exclaimed.

"Why not? Wynter will live for as long as she wants to. If she wants to spend a few centuries looking after your descendants, then that's what she'll do,"

Sasha gazed up at the sky thoughtfully, "I see. That kind of makes sense. But I don't want to feel like I'm binding her, that's all,"

"You aren't. Wynter does what she wants, when she wants. She lives life by her own rules, Sasha."

Sasha nodded, "Yeah, that's true,"

They both paused suddenly, staring ahead apprehensively. In a small alleyway ahead of them, something had moved. Seras reacted first, scowling and baring her fangs, stepping in front of Sasha protectively. Sasha blinked a few times in surprise before it finally clicked who was standing in front of them.

"Anderson," she muttered.

The hunter had stepped out from between a couple of buildings, watching them blankly. A few people stared over at them as they passed, but otherwise paid them no mind.

"What are you doing here?" Seras demanded.

The paladin seemed rather anxious about something, casting glances out toward the street and then back at them several times.

"Might Ah have ae word wi' the two o' ye?" he asked.

"We can hear you just fine from over there," Seras growled. Anderson's eyes narrowed, "Nae tricks," he said calmly, "Ah mean it,"

"I don't believe you," Seras countered, "What are you doing here?" she asked again.

Anderson hesitated, sighed and reached into his coat pocket. Seras flinched back cautiously, but frowned when he brought out a tiny object, holding it out for them to see. Seras and Sasha peered across at it curiously, discerning it to be what it looked like.

"It's Wynter's Hellsing insignia!" Seras exclaimed, "What did you do? Where's Wynter?"

"Calm doon," Anderson said, "Ah dinnae compromise yer friend in any way tae get this. Aeside from that, Ah have nae idea where she is,"

"So then how did you get it?" Sasha hissed.

"She gave it tae meh,"

"Liar!" Seras yelled, attracting attention from passerby.

"I'm no' lying tae ye," Anderson insisted, "Ah was told tae use this tae contact her if necessary."

Seras stayed back, but Sasha cautiously moved forward, brushing past the Draculina to approach carefully. She gingerly reached out and took the brooch from him. She looked up at him questioningly. He sighed, his shoulders sagging wearily, "Ah assure ye, Ah mean ye nae harm," he muttered, "Ah give ye mah word,"

Seras grumbled low in her throat, "Sasha, come back over here. We can't trust him,"

But Sasha didn't move, "Seras, maybe...he's telling the truth," she said, turning back partway to look at the vampire. Seras started in surprise, "What makes you say that?"

Sasha moved back over and pulled Seras aside, "Listen, think about it," she said, "He approached us unarmed in the middle of bustling downtown London in broad daylight. Maybe he's serious,"

"So what? What do you suggest we do about it?" Seras hissed, "Having that brooch isn't proof of anything! He surely didn't kill Wynter; he's not _that _good, but she's probably around here someplace! She might be hurt!"

"Ah can hear every word o' that," Anderson called over. Seras blanched and whirled, stumbling backward and glaring at him. Sasha turned around seriously, watching him, "So what you're saying is that you wish to speak with Wynter, is that it?" she said.

Needless to say, he looked extremely peeved at having to contact his rival, but he sighed heavily, "Aye," he replied.

Sasha frowned.

/ooo/

Wynter beat her wings viciously, arcing sharply in the sky to careen down toward the earth, pulling her wings tight against her as the wind rushed past her face. Just before she smashed into the ground, she opened them suddenly and veered back into the sky, beating the air and lifting herself higher and higher, working off her frustrations. She'd never mentioned to anyone at Hellsing that her eyes occasionally gave her trouble, sometimes causing her to go blind temporarily. Now was one of those times. She had no trouble using her other senses to fly this recklessly without her sight. Her sixth sense told her when she was nearing the earth and enabled her to veer out of the way of impact. Truly, at the moment, she was stone blind for a little while. She gnashed her fangs angrily. It was a result of experiments done to her eyes during her confinement. It wore off quickly enough, but she'd probably never be rid of it entirely.

She tucked her wings in and directed herself back toward the manor, coming to rest on the roof and touching down gently. She folded her wings down and sighed, gazing out toward the west where she knew the sun was close to setting. By this point, her vision was beginning to return, albeit blurry. Faint tinges of color could be seen.

"Wynter!"

Wynter glanced around at the sound of her name, finally pinpointing Sasha's voice from down below. She looked down and frowned, still unable to see her.

"What?"

"Uh, please come down! There's someone here who wants to talk to you!"

Wynter blinked. Her wings snapped open with a rush of wind and she pushed off from the roof, gliding down toward the ground and tucking her wings in upon landing. She straightened up and squinted, straining to see through the fuzziness.

"So then, who is it?" she asked.

"What," she heard Seras say, "You mean you can't see?"

"Not right now, no. My eyes sometimes fail me. For the moment, I'm pretty much blind. So, who wanted to talk to me?"

"Ah did,"

Wynter felt her blood run cold at the familiar accent, "Wha— Anderson?" she exclaimed, "That you?"

"Sae then ye're really blind?" she heard him ask.

"Uh, well yeah, for a little while. But what are you doing here?"

He didn't say anything, so Sasha answered, "He said he had something important to tell you," she said.

Wynter frowned, humming slightly, "All right then," she said.

She moved to sit down on the front steps several feet away. Seras and Sasha glanced back at Anderson. Seras shrugged and then she and Sasha left. Anderson glanced over at the vampire sitting calmly on the steps, staring into apparent nothingness if what she said about her eyes was true.

"Please quit staring at me," she said all of a sudden. He was finding it difficult to believe she was blind right then. He approached cautiously, never taking his eyes off her just in case. Wynter blinked slowly, "I knew I'd see you here," she said, "I just didn't expect it to be so soon. I assume that, with this fact in consideration, something bad has happened to further your already tight situation, am I correct?"

He grumbled to himself, "Aye, ye're correct," he muttered.

Wynter sighed, "I think it's about time you told me what happened, Anderson," she said firmly, "You came looking for me just like I predicted you would, but you know that I can't do a thing to help unless you tell me what's happened to drive you into enemy territory,"

He hesitated for several minutes. Finally, he slowly moved forward to sit down on the steps a few feet away from her, resting an arm on his upraised knee as he stared out toward the sinking sun. Wynter waited, as he appeared to be gathering his thoughts. Either that, or his resolve to trust his enemy with important information.

"Does Integra know you're here?" she asked in the meantime.

"Nae," he said, "Ah asked yer little friends tae inform her,"

"Smart move. I already let her know that I gave you that brooch with the Hellsing insignia. She knows what to expect."

He didn't say anything in reply.

"Listen," she said, "Unless I'm told otherwise, I won't disclose anything you tell me about what's happening in the Vatican. Yes, I know that something's amiss there. Why else would you come here?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He sighed, "Fine," he grumbled, "Iscariot is currently in shambles righ' noo," he said.

"Hm?" Wynter said, frowning, "Why's that?"

"Somethin's wroong wi' Maxwell. Ah doon't know what, but he's planning something big,"

"What do you mean?"

"He's trying tae kill meh,"

Wynter's eyes widened slightly, "Kill you? But why? You're the best agent Iscariot has to offer," she said.

"no' anymore, apparently,"

"You've been replaced?"

"Aye. Maxwell implanted the very same technology Ah employ intae ae set o' twins he acquired somehoo. Ah doon't know much aboout them, but it's clear that they're far stronger than mahself,"

"Twins," Wynter muttered, "I've heard of cases similar to this with vampires. Vampire twins are incredibly rare. The rumor is that one twin is able to protect the other simply through means of willpower. It's the whole twin telepathy theory magnified in vampiric individuals. So Maxwell has done the exact same thing with human children?"

"Aye. Up until noo, Ah was the only survivor o' this process. Because o' this, they've been ordered tae kill meh as ae test o' their power," he explained.

"So that's why you came here, and why you seemed so shattered," Wynter said.

"Ah doon't need yer pity, vampire," he snapped.

"I wouldn't dare," she said, "So now all we need to figure out is what he's planning to do from here,"

Anderson sighed, "Ah migh' have an idea," he mumbled.

He then started to tell her what had happened to make him seek her out.

_Anderson had managed to find a decrepit old office building that no one seemed to be occupying. He was exhausted from his ordeal and felt it was as good a place as any to rest for a while. After making his way in through a broken window, he settled behind a large stack of dusty old crates, leaning against the wall with a sigh. After over a week being on the run, he couldn't believe how much he missed his home. He wondered how the people at the convent were doing. He hoped the children were behaving themselves. They could get a little out of hand when they wanted to. _

_ He glanced toward the window where the moonlight wafted in, illuminating a small patch of floor a few feet away. The sound of the traffic outside was strangely comforting, kind of reassuring him that life still went on, despite shattering his entire world with its occasional cruelty. _

_ He was on the verge of falling into a deep sleep when he felt his phone go off suddenly. He pulled it from his pocket and answered it on the fourth ring. Before he could even say anything, he heard Yumie's frantic voice on the other end; "Father Anderson! This is bad! What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you? What's happening?" _

_ "Yumie," he said, relieved to hear that she was at least alive, "Noo calm doown. Ah'm fine. Where are ye?" _

_ "We're in the underground tunnels below the streets of Rome," Yumie replied, "We managed to get away before we were captured. Father, this is bad! Father Leonard and Father Benedict were taken away!" _

_ Anderson felt the breath catch in his throat. His old friends. His heart began to pound wildly in sudden fear. He struggled to compose himself, "Noo listen, Yumie, ye need tae stay calm. Is Heinkel there?" _

_ "Yeah, she's here. She's right beside me. Do you want to talk to her?" _

_ "Aye. Please put her on," Anderson said. He heard Yumie pass the phone to Heinkel and it suddenly occurred to him; how were they able to get a signal down in those tunnels? He shook his head as Heinkel came on the line; "Father Anderson, I'm sorry. I did my best but..." she mumbled, trailing off. _

_ "It's fine; ye did the right thing," he said, "Ah'm glad tae hear the two o' ye are safe, at least," _

_ Heinkel laughed bitterly, "That's the least of our vorries," she said, "Yumie and I aren't actually alone, down here. There's five or six other members who vere forced to flee, as vell. They're newer recruits vith very little experience. Father Gregory vas gathering them up and sending them avay through hidden tunnels in the Vatican. Ve're going to shift our positions to a safer place tomorrow," _

_ "Where?" _

_ "The Colosseum," Heinkel answered, "Ve figured that the maze of passageways und corridors in the ruins vill serve as an adequate hideout until ve solve this mess," _

_ "Good thinking," Anderson said proudly, "Maxwell will likely be too occupied with his experiments tae start his search prematurely. Just make sure tae stay there until it's safe," _

_ "There's no vay of knowing vhen that vill be," Heinkel said grimly, "As you just heard, Yumie's a little unstable. Ve just discovered she's claustrophobic," she said with evident distaste in her voice, bordering sympathy for her friend and sister figure. Anderson hummed, "Those tunnels ye're takin' refuge in are narrow, Heinkel. Tis only natural, unfortunately," _

_ "You're right. So, vhat do you suggest ve do about this? Those cursed twins are killing off anyone who stands in Maxvell's vay, vhatever it is he's planning," _

_ "Just keep yer heads doown," Anderson advised, "Iscariot does no' run from oor enemies, yes, but there is ae time and ae place faur everything and noo is no' that time. Maxwell is no' oor enemy. This type o' situation is unprecedented," _

_ "Should ve try to find out vhat's happening?" _

_ "Aye. no' ye two, nor anyone who looks familiar. This will sound cliché, but dress someone up as ae tourist an' send them intae the Vatican. They migh' be able tae get some information," _

_ "Right," Heinkel said, "Ve'll do that. Uh -oh," she said suddenly. Anderson frowned. _

_ "What's wroong?" _

_ "You might have been vondering how ve vere getting bars down here. I vas actually sitting on the edge of a manhole inside an alley. There are people coming, so ve have to go," _

_ "Take care, Heinkel, ye and Yumie, both," Anderson said quietly. _

_ "Thanks. Come back alive, Father Anderson. Ve won't forgive you if you don't," _

_ And with that, the line went dead as she seemingly dove back into the tunnels, cutting off the signal and hanging up. _

_ Anderson had barely hung up when the phone rang again. This time, it was another member of Iscariot, one of the longest-standing members currently in service. He answered it quickly, "Leon," he said, "Well, ye're safe at least," _

_ "Don't be so quick to use that word, Anderson," Leon told him sternly, "I'm on the run just like you are. Anyone remaining at the Vatican has either been usurped by Maxwell or killed. Leonard and Benedict are gone, Anderson," he said gravely. Anderson bowed his head. _

_ "Ah thought as much," he mumbled, "And who a' is with ye?" _

_ "I have Joseph, Andrew, Marcus, and one of the nuns, Frederika with me. All five of us have blatantly disapproved of Maxwell's scheme and have fled for our own safety. Whoever is left has probably sided with him until they can find an opening to either strike back or leave. At this point, Anderson, it's every man, and woman apparently, for themselves," _

_ "Sae dae ye have any idea what on earth he's planning, Leon?" Anderson asked, leaning forward to peer out the window at a sudden creaking noise. He saw nothing, so he settled back again, staring out at the blackened sky. _

_ "Frederika says she overheard him talking about some kind of overthrow. But it didn't sound as though he's trying to evict His Holiness. That doesn't make any sense, anyway; Maxwell's loyal to a fault to the Pope as it is," _

_ Anderson frowned, "He's planning some kind o' attack," he muttered, "But tae whom, and why, Ah wonder?" _

_ "There's one more bit Frederika told me and Andrew is willing to back her up on this. It seems that a few months ago, Maxwell started a campaign to gather food for homeless families. He was especially generous to families with young children. According to this, it seemed that Maxwell offered the families a deal; to take their children to a safe place where they could receive a proper education, funded by the Vatican and from what I understand, a good number of people consented. There's a rumor floating around with the appearance of Giuseppe and Mireille that Maxwell may be planning to use those same children to further whatever he's planning to do. If it involves the same implants that you and the twins employ, then it would seem that he's trying to build an army of some kind," _

_ Anderson's eyes widened in alarm. He scowled and shook his head, "That idiot," he grumbled. He sighed, "Ah apologize, Leon. Ah left and cannae help ye righ' noo," _

_ "Don't apologize my friend, it doesn't suit you," Leon said with a laugh. Anderson had to chuckle at that. Leon continued on a more serious note, "However, you should know that all of us support what you did. Don't think for a moment that by fleeing to wherever you are now that you've abandoned us. When it comes right down to it, when the times comes, we'll need you. Iscariot may be bold, but we're by no means stupid. We know better than to rush into battle unprepared against an enemy we know nothing about," _

_ "Usually, that isn't the case," Anderson pointed out, "Until noo, we typically fought unholy demons and heretics. We've never fought one o' oor own, before. Ah wish Ah knew what the appropriate course o' action is," _

_ "Same here. So, until we do, we'll find a place to congregate. I know we can't risk revealing information on location over the phone. Are Yumie and Heinkel in close proximity?" _

_ "They are. They're moving tae the place o' many ae great conquest, Leon," he said, hoping Leon got the message. Leon hummed in thought. Then, he laughed, "I see. How appropriate," he said, "Well, wherever you are, Anderson, be careful. And trust in the Lord, our God to bring his faithful servants out of this crisis safely," _

_ "Be careful, mah friend," Anderson said. He hung up and stared up at the ceiling, feeling strangely fatigued, "That's it," he said, "It would seem Ah've go' nae choice. Taemorrow, Ah'll have tae find her," _

Wynter stared off into space as her vision finally began to clear. She processed all she'd heard, a strange feeling of apprehension whirling about inside her.

"I see," she mumbled, "So then, you weren't exaggerating when you said that Iscariot was in shambles. It seems like your people are scattering like bugs to a light,"

He threw a vicious glare in her direction and she chuckled dryly, "Sorry, bad metaphor," she said, "In any case, you now have no choice but to seek help from your greatest enemies,"

"Doon't remind meh," he snapped, "Ah'm no' prooud o' it,"

"I expect you're not. So lets' get to the point; Maxwell may be attempting to create an army using the same...you called them 'implants'?"

"Aye,"

"Okay...those...to accomplish whatever goals he's set in mind. From what you gather, he doesn't appear to be rebelling against the Pope. This leaves just one question, assuming all of your information was viable. Who is he trying to overthrow and why?"

"Faur the life o' meh, Ah cannae think o' anything," he grumbled. Wynter could sense his anxiety growing by the minute.

"Just calm down," she said. He glowered at her angrily, "What?" he snapped. Wynter sighed and folded her arms, "I can sense your blood rushing in fear," she said simply, "You're worried for your comrades and this is understandable. You're human, after all; you can't help your body's natural responses to a crisis. But you should know better than anyone that needless panic accomplishes nothing,"

"That may be true," he said, "But this time is different. We've ne'er fought with one o' oor own, before,"

Wynter smiled suddenly, throwing him off guard; "Try to relax. I have a few ideas on what we can do to help you. Don't forget, I have a lot of influence in the vampire world. If you don't mind backup on my end, I can probably use a few of my sources to at least find out what Maxwell's planning. Then, we can stop him, reinstate your organization, and get back to squabbling as usual. Also, you need to come up with what you want for the debt. Just remember, you can't ask to kill me outright, as it defeats the purpose. Okay?"

"Quit being sae damn cheerful," he growled.

"Hm...where have I heard that before?" Wynter mumbled, "Oh well. Anyway, for now, the best course of action would probably be for you to speak to Integra,"

He frowned suspiciously, "Why?"

"Well, she might have a few suggestions,"

Of course, as with anything that happens in life, Wynter knew that speaking with Integra about one of her greatest irritations in life was easier said than done; far, far easier.

Integra eyed the paladin with evident anger as he stood motionless in her office, not really looking at anything in particular. Wynter stood beside him, Alucard stood a few feet away and Walter remained in his usual place beside Integra's desk. He appeared slightly uncomfortable with the heavy tension in the room.

"So then," Integra said heavily, "Let me get this straight; it would seem that Enrico Maxwell, head of the Vatican's special Section XIII, has turned on his own people, driving his best agent into exile. This very same agent now stands in enemy territory, invited here by one of our own vampires," she said with emphasis.

"I acted without orders, Integra," Wynter said, a sly look forming in her eyes, "But don't forget, I don't actually belong to Hellsing, so technically I don't relay orders,"

Integra frowned, "Be that as it may, Iscariot is one of our sworn enemies,"

"Iscariot will soon be the least of our worries," Wynter said, "From what we've been able to discover, Maxwell is planning some kind of overthrow. We suspect that it may be Hellsing,"

Integra sighed, "This could be problematic," she muttered. Her gaze turned to Anderson, "And what do you suggest we do with him?" she asked, jerking her head in his direction. Anderson was a little miffed that she was treating him like an object, but bit his tongue. Now wasn't the time to pick fights.

"I was hoping you'd have an idea," Wynter said, "I have suggestions, but you are the leader of Hellsing, after all,"

Integra seemed to mull it over, glancing over at him several times.

"If he were to assist us in a possible battle against these new warriors you mentioned, I'd consider letting him stay at Hellsing for his own protection. A truce is out of the question on both accounts, you realize,"

"Of course," Wynter said, "Anderson?"

" Faur once, Ah'd have tae agree with ye, Hellsing," he said irritably, but clearly seeing that her idea had merit, "Since Maxwell ordered the two o' them tae kill meh, it can be reasonably assumed Ah'm the only one who stands ae chance against them,"

"Given that," Wynter added, "Should he be killed, whatever is going on inside the Vatican will continue unhindered and we may end up losing more than just the Hellsing organization,"

Integra frowned. Nobody was really happy with what appeared to be their only option except for Wynter, who was playing devil's advocate anyway, so it didn't matter.

"Walter," Integra said after a short while, "Do you see any other options?"

Walter sighed, "No, I'm afraid not, Sir Integra," he said, "It's fairly obvious that no one knows where Anderson is at the moment. For all they know, he could have left the country altogether. I'd have to say our best bet is keeping it that way and that means keeping him out of sight until we've got an opening to strike back,"

It was Integra's turn to sigh, "I was afraid you'd say that," she mumbled, "Very well, then. If what you're saying about section XIII is true, we've no choice but to keep your location strictly confidential, Anderson. I'll send some scouts to Rome to try to find out what's really going on, but until we know, we take no chances,"

She stood up and turned around to glare out the window, possibly to hide how irritated she really was at what she was about to say, "Until further notice, you'll stay within the confines of the Hellsing estate. If you wish to take temporary leave outside our borders, it's highly recommended that either Wynter or Seras accompany you, although we will not enforce this for obvious reasons,"

"Why not me?" Alucard asked, earning a glare from everyone but Wynter. Walter cleared his throat, "Because quite frankly, Alucard, we don't trust you not to start a fight. That's putting it mildly,"

Alucard grinned fiendishly, knowing he'd been caught.

No one was really all that pleased with the situation. Their wayward 'guest' was given a room deep within the sub-levels and away from the entrances in case of an attack. Integra suspected that Anderson was correct in his assumptions; Maxwell ordered his death because he was the only one who stood a reasonable chance against these new warriors. It was entirely probable that Anderson was their only hope at dismantling these plans, whatever they were, before it got out of hand. Wynter followed Walter and Anderson down there, mostly out of boredom, but also because she got the distinct feeling that the priest wanted a word with her. The way he kept glaring at her was proof enough in her book.

"I must ask you to refrain from starting any scuffles with our resident vampires, Anderson," Walter said, "These sorts of skirmishes are too costly for Hellsing to afford at the moment, and my health isn't the best these days so stopping them would be rather difficult, to say the least,"

"Ah'm no' going tae cause trouble," Anderson said irritably, "Believe meh, Ah'm just as dissatisfied as the rest o' ye,"

He turned back to see if Wynter was still following them. She was, albeit slowly. She glanced up curiously, "What?"

"Sae ye can see, noo," he remarked.

"Yeah, my vision finally cleared," she replied, rubbing her eyes, "They do that sometimes. It's just a side-effect of all the moronic experiments they pulled on my eyes. It wears off quickly enough,"

"Experiments?" he muttered under his breath. But Wynter didn't notice and Walter heard, but clearly didn't know much and so, decided not to say anything.

The room had essentially been thrown together, as no one had expected any sudden guests. It was the same as any of the guest rooms upstairs, the only difference being that it was almost a mile underground. Walter left quickly, preferring to keep away from Anderson as much as possible. It was pretty clear that the man was intimidating. Wynter swept past further into the corridors, heading toward a deeper region. Anderson frowned, "Where are ye goin'?" he asked. Wynter turned around, "Hellsing's resident monsters sleep much deeper within the sub-levels than this, Anderson. I'd advise you not to go much further than this; even _I_ sometimes still get lost in this maze," she said irritably. She resumed down the hallway until she melted into the darkness beyond. As she went, she heard the metallic clang of a door closing, but paid it no mind. She had a lot to think about. She knew that the situation was grave enough to drive Anderson out of Rome and straight into the heart of enemy territory. And since no one was at all pleased with him being within enemy lines, she knew it was up to her to try to keep the peace. This meant keeping an eye on things while they sorted out the mess going on in Rome. Even though she knew he was their temporary ally, she felt compelled to lock her door when she reached her chamber. She fell onto her bed and sighed, closing the lid and curling into a ball, staring blankly into the darkness surrounding her. It was very comforting, enough so that she quickly fell into a deep, restless sleep.

A/N: Criminy! Long chapter! 0_o But I hope Anderson was still in character. I've got the hang of everyone else; he's the only one I'm really concerned about. But I'll keep doing my best to keep him as in character as possible for the story I'm writing. I hope you enjoyed!


	14. Thirteen

A/N: MarzBarz has had a rough week, so this chapter is especially for her! I hope you enjoy it. This is the REAL calm before the storm, lol.

Thirteen

It was the same old story.

A new place. New surroundings. New room. New air, even. Anderson found it virtually impossible to sleep, especially with the information that he was nearly a mile underground. It was just too weird. He hadn't slept well in days. He just couldn't relax in an unfamiliar place. He was always on edge. If something like this happened back home, he'd pick up a book or two and read until he felt drowsy. He couldn't really do that here. Well, maybe he could. He had some money with him. Maybe he could find a book or two in town. Of course, that meant possibly having to tolerate one of the vampires accompanying him for protection against any threats from Maxwell. He couldn't believe how low he'd sunk; accepting help from vampires, Wynter especially. She was the one vampire besides Alucard that he wanted to kill almost more than anything. Of the two, he definitely preferred Wynter because she was less irritating. He couldn't stand Alucard's taunts and complete and utter indifference toward God. It was just too much for Anderson to take more often than not. So while Alucard seemed to be a total atheist, Wynter appeared more agnostic. He supposed he could tolerate it. At least she acknowledged God's existence.

He froze, suddenly. What was that? A faint...screaming? He got to his feet and moved toward the door, frowning. He opened it up and stepped out. There was no doubt about it; a horrid scream was echoing up through the hallways from the lower levels. More curious than concerned, he made his way toward the source, descending the steps and turning the corner just in time for the other fledgling, Seras, to literally run into him and fall backward in shock. She grumbled to herself and looked up. She blanched and a shrill squeak left her throat, "A-Anderson!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing down here?"

"Ah thought Ah heard something," he answered, "Screaming,"

"Well, yes, it's Wynter, again," Seras said in exasperation and worry, "Lately, she's been having horrible nightmares. It's dangerous to wake her up, or even to be in the vicinity, so Alucard told me to just get out of the basement when it happens,"

Anderson frowned, "Dangerous?"

Seras nodded, "Yes," she said nervously, "She nearly sliced my head off when I tried to wake her the first time. Her eyes were open and she seemed awake, but she wasn't...well, _her_ anymore. She was yelling things in another language. It was eerie,"

"What language?" Anderson asked.

"I think it was either French or Italian," Seras said. Anderson started a bit at the mention of the second one. Living in Italy, he understood and spoke quite a bit of fluent Italian.

"Why doon't ye take meh doown there?" he suggested grimly, "Ah'd like tae check this oot faur mehself,"

Seras sighed, giving him a look suggesting stupidity, "Do you have a death wish? Wynter may act idiotic and carefree sometimes, but she's as scary as Alucard is," she said wearily.

"What kind o' fool dae ye take meh faur!" Anderson snapped. Seras winced and laughed sheepishly, "Point taken. Follow me," she said, feeling as though she'd just lost thirty years of her nearly unlimited lifespan.

The screaming grew louder and more pronounced as they drew closer to the corridor where Seras, Alucard, and Wynter's respective rooms were. Anderson felt a sense of unease as he followed the clearly anxious Draculina until she finally stopped. She pointed forward toward the door where the screams were loudest, "That's where she is," she said, "But I _really_ don't recommend going there. She managed to decapitate Alucard a few days ago and you know as well as I do that that's no easy task. It was enough to teach him to stay away from her during this,"

"Hoo long has this been happening?" Anderson asked.

"She's been here about a week, but Sasha says it's been happening for almost a while, now, since her wings came back in faster than they should have,"

Wynter's voice could be heard screaming something in what Anderson believed was distinct Italian; "_ Mio dio, e morta! Hanno ucciso lei! Hanno ucciso lei! E morta!_"

"It _is_ Italian," he said. Seras looked up at him curiously, "So then what's she saying?"

"She's saying that someone is deid," he said, "That 'she was killed',"

Seras looked back toward the door and shrieked as something was suddenly hurled against it, the metallic clang echoing loudly through the halls. Anderson whipped out two bayonets as the door was hurled open. Seras dove to the side and watched, wide-eyed as Wynter stumbled out, eyes wild and blazing in pure, unbridled fury. Her gaze landed on Anderson and she let out a feral snarl, "_Sei stato colui che ha ucciso lei?_" she hissed in a voice that didn't seem to be her own. Anderson faltered at the unusual question. He scowled and brandished his weapons warningly, "Nae, Ah dinnae kill anyone o' yers," he answered in Italian, wondering whether or not it was a good thing that Wynter was targeting him in her sleep. Was it even possible for this to happen to vampires?

"_Bugiardo! Tu hai ucciso lei!_"

"Ah'm no' lying," Anderson insisted. Wynter shook her head, slumping against the wall as she started crying hysterically, "_Chi allora? Chi l'ha uccisa? La mia bambina...la mia bambina..._"

Wynter curled into a ball against the wall, sobs wracking her body as she seemingly fell back into a deep sleep, finally falling silent after a few minutes. Anderson sighed and replaced the bayonets into his coat, staring down at the vampire who now appeared peacefully asleep and unaware of the entire situation.

Seras staggered to her feet and made her way over, "So what was all that?" she asked, "I didn't even know Wynter could speak Italian, and so fluently at that,"

"Ye'd be surprised at ae vampire's talents as they groo old, little girl," Anderson replied, "Ah've go' nae idea what she was talking aboout, though,"

"What was she saying?" Seras asked.

"She was saying that she thought Ah killed ae child, ae small girl, from the soounds o' it. She wanted tae know who did, if no' mehself,"

"That's kinda confusing," Seras mumbled with a sigh. She blinked in surprise when Wynter began to stir suddenly, moaning and sitting up with a yawn. She glanced blearily up at the two of them and tilted her head, "Hm? What are you two doing down here? Oh jeez, don't tell me I've been sleepwalking again," she said as she stumbled to her feet.

"Wynter," Seras said uncertainly, "Do you mean to say that you don't remember?"

Wynter brushed her hair from her eyes, "Well of course not. Sleepwalkers tend not to remember whatever they did come morning for some reason, though I don't recall ever sleepwalking much before," she said ponderously. She shrugged, "Oh well. I'm going back to sleep," she said, turning to go back into her room, pausing only to peer at the crushed bucket lying on the floor amidst scattered, broken bits of furniture. Seras stepped forward, "Wait, Wynter," she called. Wynter turned, smiling, "Yes?"

"Um, by any chance, do you know how to speak Italian?"

Wynter frowned at such an interesting question. She shook her head, "No, I'm afraid I don't speak a word of it," she said, "Why?"

Seras blanched, but shook her head, "Oh, just curious, no reason," she finished lamely. Wynter frowned curiously, but returned to her chamber. Before she shut the door, she glanced at Anderson, "I really hope you're staying out of trouble," she growled. She shut the door and locked it as Anderson scowled, "And what did she mean by that?" he growled. Seras giggled, "Well, I guess that's that, then. If you'll excuse me, I'll be going to my room, now," she said, whirling and hurrying away down the hall. Anderson stared after her, shaking his head in bewilderment. He glanced back at the door one final time, slightly apprehensive, and then turned and headed back up the corridor toward where his own temporary residence was. But he knew he still wasn't going to get any sleep.

It was going to be a long night.

/ooo/

The following day, Wynter seemed to remember absolutely nothing of the night before, not even of waking up in the hallway and of Seras asking whether or not she could speak Italian. Wynter told her that she didn't even remember how to speak French, her mother tongue, much less a language she'd never even heard spoken correctly before.

So Sasha found Seras in the shooting range, working off her frustration by breaking in a new sniper rifle, a Blaser R93 with custom ammunition that Walter had specifically designed for that gun. Sasha stood beside Seras for an entire five minutes before she was noticed.

"I guess you're upset," Sasha pointed out as Seras lowered the gun to remove the empty cartridge. Seras sighed, "Yes, you could say that. Wynter had another nightmare last night and Anderson was present for it. At least now we know what she's been saying,"

"Why? Don't tell me he speaks Italian?" Sasha exclaimed. Seras gave her 'the look', "Sasha, he lives in Italy. I'd hope he can speak the local language," Seras said.

"But he's clearly Scottish," Sasha protested. She shook her head, "No, no, no, that's not even on the subject! So I guess she started ranting in Italian again, huh? And let me also guess that she claims she can't speak Italian,"

"I don't think it's a simple claim, Sasha," Seras said, firing off twelve bursts, "She can't even remember how to speak French, the language she grew up learning. That, and she told me she's never been to Italy, at least not until a few weeks ago,"

"She could have learned it on the sly," Sasha suggested.

"Wouldn't you have noticed?" Seras asked. Sasha hummed, "I guess you're right," she mumbled. Seras sighed, "Listen, why do you keep doubting her? Even if she could speak it, why would she want to freak us out like this? I'll bet that she herself doesn't even know what she's saying or why she's doing it in the first place,"

Across the room, hidden outside the door, Wynter stared at the floor gloomily. Her own best friend had no faith in her. She sighed and moved away from the door. She'd been intending to find Seras and apologize for whatever she did, but she figured there was no point.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered, "Why am I doing this?"

/ooo/

Integra frowned at a stack of reports to her left and then to a London newspaper to her right.

"This is bad," she muttered.

"Madam?" Walter asked. Integra sighed and glanced up, handing him the newspaper, "Read the first article beneath the cover story," she said, rubbing her eyes beneath her glasses. Walter took the paper and adjusted his own glasses, frowning. He cleared his throat, "Ahem...'First local news of London Times: three families slaughtered in own homes'," he read aloud, " 'London police have begun an investigation into the murders of a single prestigious family and their neighbors, perpetrated at an estimated time of one to three in the morning. The details have not been disclosed to the public due to the graphic nature of the slayings. Police have sent four investigators to the nearby regions in hopes of discovering and apprehending the killer before he strikes again',"

Walter handed back the paper and Integra gave him the report on the top of the stack. Walter scanned through it, his brow furrowing as he did, "Sir Integra, is this what I think it is?" he asked.

"It is. It's a report from our Vatican intelligence officer, Mr. Burns. He said that around nine o clock last night, a helicopter was seen leaving the vicinity of Rome, heading toward London. Mr. Burns confirmed that three Vatican agents not of Iscariot and two children were on board the aircraft. The helicopter returned to the Vatican at around nine this morning,"

"So you're suggesting that the Vatican is behind these attacks?" Walter said.

"I'm not suggesting, Walter, I'm confirming. I have another report here from the chief of police. It describes the killings in detail. Whatever did this was most definitely human, Walter. In the very least, a modified human, maybe two, maybe three. The number doesn't matter. What does matter is the single thing that all three families have in common, which makes me suspicious of this attack,"

"And what's that?"

"All three families were Protestant. The first family killed were Protestant evangelists, often making trips to other nations to try to bring others into our fold, a practice I don't particularly approve of," Integra said, reaching for a cigar and lighting it, "From what I understand, the majority of their travel was made to Rome. I suspect that that's what caught the Vatican's attention,"

"So then, I'm assuming that this is the reason a Round Table conference has been called?"

"Yes," Integra replied, "It's been decided to hold the meeting here. We'll be deciding what to do about this new threat and hopefully, bring this to a resolution before too many more people are killed,"

"I see," Walter said grimly, "And what of the paladin?"

"What about him?" Integra asked irritably.

"Is it possible he may be more aware of the situation than he appeared to be?"

"It's possible. However, seeking information from that menace is a little more than I can stomach," Integra grumbled, squinting.

"I understand entirely, Sir Integra," Walter said with a chuckle, "And I'm sure the feeling is mutual on all accounts. Since Wynter is the only one who seems able to tolerate him, I'll speak to her about it,"

"Hm," Integra mumbled.

But Wynter couldn't be found that day. According to Alucard, he'd sensed her presence flying over the Hellsing mansion several hours earlier before wheeling south and vanishing. He supposed she'd gone to the ocean to think. She couldn't fly over it, but she often enjoyed staring at it.

Walter stood within the aged vampire's darkened chamber, watching him solemnly. Alucard could barely be seen in the dim light, although this light served him perfectly. Alucard's eyes flickered in the darkness, "Something is troubling her, Walter," he said with an eerie sense of anticipation.

"And what might that mean?"

"I've heard her on several occasions since she came back here," Alucard told him, "Ranting in a language she herself possesses no knowledge of how to speak. Talking about the death of a mysterious child and lamenting its loss, attacking without warning. I believe that something may have gotten a hold of her,"

Walter's eyes widened, "You're saying she's been possessed?" he exclaimed.

"Possibly. It's been a while since I ran across wayward spirits. They're rare, but not unheard of," he explained, "They possess humans all the time, Walter, simply because the typical human mind is far too weak to resist. On occasion, they'll attach to a vampire during periods of rest. This may or may not be the case with Wynter,"

He removed his glasses, twirling them around his finger absently, "But then again," he said ponderously, "Perhaps this is a different case altogether,"

"What do you mean?"

"Come now, Walter, don't tell me you don't know about the workings of spirits," Alucard said. Walter grinned wryly, "You know very well I specialized in vampires, Alucard. Spirits were never my _forte_,"

"A wise choice. Of the two, I'd have to say vampires are far more manageable," Alucard said, "In this case, perhaps Wynter may already have been housing a spirit and for some reason, a catalyst of sorts caused it to awaken prematurely. Perhaps it was the abnormally fast regrowth of her wings. Perhaps it was the formation of the cabal. Or perhaps it even had something to do with Anderson suddenly prioritizing her death above all else. There's no way of knowing what caused it short of asking the spirit itself during a complete possession. And of course, we'd need Anderson to translate, apparently," he said with a chuckle.

"I take it that means you don't know Italian either," Walter said wearily.

"I know about three words, maybe four. I never had much of an appetite for languages," Alucard said with a shrug.

"You don't seem incredibly concerned about Wynter,"

"Wynter spent over two decades enduring unimaginable torture, Walter. I endured two decades exactly in simple hibernation. Wynter knows my motto; never give in. She spent a long time living by that motto, apparently for the sole purpose of meeting me again, just to convince herself that with our declining species number, she wasn't alone in the world. Vampires may be solitary for the most part, but it's only natural for members of a species to seek out kin, Walter,"

"You're hedging, Alucard," Walter said bemusedly. The vampire chuckled, "So I am," he said, "But you understand my meaning. Wynter refused to give in after she was stolen away from me. This makes her as strong as I am; I've existed for several hard centuries, been through unimaginable terrors and pain and suffering beyond comprehension. Wynter isn't very old at all, but she's been through much more than the average vampire experiences in their first few hundred years of life. My point in the matter is this; Wynter is strong, Walter. She's earned her time to shine and she'll get it. Mind you, I do concern myself over her from time to time; I'm her sire, it's natural. But there's no point worrying about her. She's all grown up now," he said with a leer. Walter sighed and shook his head, "You're in quite the peculiar mood today, aren't you?"

"You could say that," Alucard said with a grin that showed his fangs. It was eerie, "However, there's nothing saying that as old as I am, I can't enjoy life,"

"So I see," Walter mumbled.

/ooo/

Wynter returned early the following day, weary and exhausted from flying non-stop. She touched down by the front entrance and collapsed, "God, I'm tired," she muttered, "I overdid it again, didn't I?"

She got to her feet and staggered inside the building, folding her wings down. She sighed and glanced up at the sky. It was really early. She wondered if anyone was even up, yet.

She warped through the wall, rather than rattle the walls by opening the door. However, even as she stepped inside, she felt something was wrong. There were unfamiliar essences within the building. She shook her head, shuddering her wings.

"Calm down, Wynter," she mumbled, "You're only tired,"

But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.

/ooo/

Integra stared down each of the men watching her warily from across the edges of the table. She lit her cigar and blew a cloud of smoke away from them out of courtesy for the non-smokers in the room. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't have paid any attention. However, now was different.

"So then," Sir Irons started, "Integra, according to the notices you sent each of us, it seems that the situation involving those three murders has been illuminated slightly, is that correct?"

"It is, for the most part. But it's also quite hazy, right now," Integra replied cryptically. One member, Lord Milton, from Dover, let out a noise of irritation and scowled at her, "Don't give us strange answers, Integra," he snapped, "Just tell us whether or not the situation is completely understood. You mentioned in your report that the Vatican has issued a new weapon that has succeeded in driving away their best agent and breaking up the ranks of their finest assassins unit,"

"I did say that, didn't I? Well, it happens to be true, and it also just so happens to be that I have that particular agent under the Hellsing Organization's protection at the moment. He's about five stories beneath your feet," she said, jabbing the table lightly with her cigar. Several of the men began muttering fearfully amongst themselves. It was a good bet that none of them have ever met the Paladin Anderson before, but they'd all undoubtedly heard of his 'accomplishments', if that's what you'd call them.

"And what exactly is he doing here, Integra?" Irons asked suspiciously, seemingly the only one who remained calm.

"One of the vampires invited him," Integra said nonchalantly. Irons' eyes went wide and he shook his head spasmodically, "Integra! You mean to say that one of your own monstrosities is behind this clear act of treason?" he yelled.

"She doesn't belong to us, Sir Irons," Integra informed him, "Mind you, the stolen research done on Alucard _by_ Hellsing was used to create her as she is today, but she isn't a servant of ours and she is no threat. Therefore, she has joined our ranks. Now, I want you to think upon this scenario—"

"No," Irons interrupted, "Integra, this is one time too many you have shown a blatant disregard for Hellsing's protocols in protection of the church and crown. If you think we will just sit by and—"

"Sir Irons!" proclaimed Sir Penwood, "I believe it wise this time to allow her to finish speaking before you jump to conclusions,"

Sir Irons glared at Sir Penwood, but he fell to silent agreement and nodded to Integra. She closed her eyes, regaining her train of thought, "Now then," she continued, "Consider this; The Vatican has improved upon the technology used to modify their best agent, Father Alexander Anderson, the only known survivor of this so-called technique we've been gathering information on for the last few years. If they'd managed to duplicate and successfully improve this very same process, where would Anderson, the only other recipient, be left in this equation?"

"I'd assume that he'd have become a lesser, er, version per se," said Lord Milton awkwardly. Integra nodded slowly, "That's correct. In the world of technology and its terminology, Alexander Anderson has become obsolete, his skills no longer worth the support they once merited, his help no longer needed. He has become nothing more than a burden on a now-perfected system,"

"You speak of this process as that of an android," Sir Irons stated.

"I'm aware that this individual is no such thing; that he is quite human, albeit heavily modified. But given what's happened, it's safe to assume that his replacements are likely less than human, gentlemen,"

"Meaning?" Sir Irons pried. Integra placed her cigar in the ashtray beside her. She fixed them with a serious stare, "Meaning," she said, "That Anderson may have been the absolute least of our worries in relation to Iscariot and the Vatican. If his replacements are powerful enough to drive him away from his own homeland, we should expect the coming storm and be ready for it,"

"You say 'replacements'," Said a man in the back, Sir Rowan, "Do you mean to say that there's more than one?"

"Our intelligence officer in the Vatican reported seeing two albino children aboard a helicopter heading toward London on the night of the attacks. Now tell me, does anything about that strike you as odd?"

"Aside from the children, no; it sounds like a typical air raid," Sir Rowan said. Integra smiled slyly, "Exactly. The children are the odd-ends out. Why would the Vatican send a pair of children on a dangerous assassination of Protestant evangelists? Certainly not a parent bringing them along for the ride. No one is _that_ daft,"

"So then," Sir Irons said, "You're suggesting that those two children are these so-called deadly new weapons that have replaced Alexander Anderson as the Vatican's top agents?"

"I'm not suggesting, Sir Irons," Integra said, "With all due respect, I'm stating. These children aren't 'maybe' factors in this equation. They're the absolute answer. Why else would the Vatican send them along? Because they were the ones who carried out the orders,"

"That's insane!" Lord Milton exclaimed in horror, "Perhaps our intelligence officer just mistook something else for what he claims to have seen,"

"Do you have a better explanation?" Integra asked dryly. No one moved to reply. Integra sighed, "It would simply seem, gentlemen, that the Vatican has found new means of fighting and apparently, children are this means to their end. In the meantime, we have enlisted the aid of their former best agent. Granted, the only one in resident who seems able to tolerate him is the vampire who offered assistance for us, but we're currently working with the situation with what little leeway we've been given,"

"Sir Integra," Sir Irons interjected once more, "Tell us about this 'other vampire' you keep mentioning,"

"I believe you're all familiar with her. Her former name is Genevieve Du Beaumont,"

"What!" Sir Rowan exclaimed, "Are you speaking of _the_ Du Beaumont family? But they've been extinct for years! Their eldest son never returned to France and the parents and their two daughters were killed by assassins who broke into their home,"

"You're mistaken, Sir Rowan; that was the story given to the media by my ancestor prior to Hellsing's founding," Integra said, "Both of the daughters are alive. As we speak, one has taken a career in the medical field and the other is very likely asleep in her coffin down in the basement,"

"I seem to recall," Sir Penwood said quietly, his hands folded over his mouth, "The mention of another vampire in the Hellsing company by the name of Wynter,"

"That would be Genevieve," Integra said, "Her family was slaughtered and she begged Alucard to turn her in order to exact revenge on the vampire responsible. However, she paid an enigmatic cost of all her human memories. She now spends her days wandering the countryside aimlessly,"

"With now as the apparent exception," Sir Irons said skeptically, "What is she doing here, and is she trustworthy?"

"I'm rather surprised at you, Sir Irons," Integra said, "I know you don't think very highly of my intentions and actions as it is. Are you perchance trying to trap me?"

Sir Irons appeared somewhat flustered but he shook his head lightly and waved her question off. Sir Penwood cleared his throat, "Sir Integra, amidst our secret circles, it's a well known fact that for a hundred years, Hellsing has employed a single vampire, Alucard, to assist in the destruction of his own kind, a feat unprecedented in modern times with the appearance of so many odd vampires. We do not ask if Wynter is trustworthy in that she will serve Hellsing indefinitely; we ask whether or not you can control her,"

"I don't intend to try," Integra answered, "Wynter is like Alucard, in that she is his fledgling and the heiress of a good deal of his power upon her turning. However, Wynter had been through a very different situation than Alucard. She endured twenty-four years of torture at the hands of humans and actually shares more in common with Anderson in this particular case,"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Sir Irons growled.

"Wynter was stolen from Alucard at a young age and taken away to a certain, unnamed facility, now disbanded. She was modified to surpass Alucard. The whole idea behind this process is that she would have done that organization's bidding, killed her master and drunk his blood to free herself from bondage to him. With this done, she then would have become quite possibly the most frightfully powerful vampire ever to walk this earth. However, as with many a great strategy, this plan didn't work. Wynter's attachment to Alucard was too great. She instead escaped those people and hid herself away for many decades. There is only one reason why the plan failed,"

Integra paused to let this information sink in. She frowned and continued, "That reason being this; the loss of her memories."

"How did that affect anything?" Sir Rowan asked, "And how does this apply to the current situation involving the Vatican and Anderson?"

"I'm getting to that. Wynter's awakening into this world with a clean slate caused her to imprint on Alucard almost immediately. He was all she had and therefore, her attachment to him was quite strong, indeed. Had she had memories to go back on, she might have eventually grown to hate him for what he'd done and assisted the organization in his death. Obviously, that wasn't the case. Now, to answer your question, this is how this all relates to our current situation. Wynter is a very different vampire from Alucard. She's fond of playing devil's advocate. I saw this clearly when she brought Anderson here. She holds immense respect for him as an enemy and therefore, stood close by him when I spoke with him. She was both keeping an eye on the situation and preventing a fight from breaking out between him and Alucard. Wynter is also very sensitive to affairs in the human world. This comes naturally due to her nomadic nature, which means she can never let her guard down around humans. It's to be expected that she'd sense something was wrong within the Vatican and why she'd propose assisting Iscariot for the greater good for everyone. However, Wynter is by no means, trustworthy, gentlemen," Integra said with a smirk.

"So what you're saying is that you don't trust Wynter to listen to you," Sir Penwood said, "But you do trust her to fight for the ultimate greater good for all of us,"

"I believe she's fighting with her own odd reasons in mind," Integra said, "I don't expect her to obey anything we tell her to do unless it benefits those reasons. That's just how vampires like her operate. However, we do have an advantage;"

"And what would that be?"

Integra's eyes narrowed, "Alucard, of course. Last year, Alucard offered Wynter his blood, intending to free her from servitude to him. She declined. She's afraid to free herself, for fear she'll wind up doing the organization's dirty work in the end. She doesn't want to reach her full potential. This means that she is still within Alucard's control."

"And how does this relate to Anderson?" Sir Irons asked.

"For one reason or another, Anderson has attacked Wynter a total of five times in the past, failing to kill her each time. Like Alucard, Wynter can be completely decapitated and won't die. Her entire body was blown to pieces last year and she survived. However, she does have one flaw that we discovered in her data some time ago. If her heart is pierced, no matter how powerful she is, she would likely die like any other vampire, this being because she escaped before her heart could modified along with the rest of her body. It seems that Anderson may have figured this out, but for whatever reason, he's refusing to kill her. There's no way of knowing how he thinks, nor can we determine his reasoning. For the moment, we have a temporary ally in him as long as Wynter acts as a go-between."

"And if Anderson decides to kill her?"

"Hm? Even if that were to become the case, Wynter has endured enough hardship for three vampires. She won't die easily, gentlemen. And this is how we're going to stop whatever is going on in the Vatican. If their intention is to destroy us, let them try. We'll just keep coming back,"

Sir Irons didn't look happy with the decision, "Fine, Integra," he said, "With our current situation, we can't afford to be choosy. Wynter and Anderson will be tolerated for now. But if Wynter shows any signs of rebellion toward us, any at all, she will be dealt with,"

"I understand." Integra answered, "Now then, we should get on to the subject of how to stop the Vatican's plans,"

/ooo/

Wynter sat outside on the steps with her wings open. She'd bought a fine-toothed comb in town, an object usually used for horse tails. In this case, it was the perfect thing for removing loose grit from her feathers. She couldn't just sit around and wait for a sudden thunderstorm to wash them, so she had to clean them once every few days.

She gathered a small handful of feathers, gently running the teeth of the comb between them, but stopping just before she got to the edges. She didn't want to pull any out. Not only would it hurt, but the loss of certain feathers would affect her flying.

She frowned as she continued combing. She could hear him approaching long before he actually got there. She didn't look up, "Hello, Anderson," she said pleasantly, "What are you doing out here?"

"Ah doon't like being cooped up inside," he replied, "What are ye doing?"

"Cleaning my wings. If I don't, I can't fly properly," she said as she continued brushing her right wing. Anderson frowned, "That reminds meh," he said, "Ah thought they were ripped oot ae while back,"

"They were," Wynter said, unfurling them with a rush of feathers, "But Dorcas and Harriet did me a favor. These new wings are far superior to the other ones. They're stronger and I can fly much, much faster," she said, a look of evident pride on her face, "I take great care in my wings,"

He didn't reply. Wynter hummed, "I see," she said, "You really don't like me, do you?"

"Hm?"

"I understand your reasoning. I'm a vampire, after all. However, I do wish I could figure out where you got the idea that all vampires are evil, blood-sucking monsters out to annihilate the human race,"

She stood up, opening her wings. A tremendous gust whipped up and he shielded his eyes out of reflex. When he looked up again, she was gone, high up in the sky and slowly fading from view along the horizon, a single black dot. A few black feathers drifted down. He watched her leave, feeling strangely uneasy.

Wynter beat her wings once, carrying her up several dozen feet and away from spying eyes on the ground. She couldn't understand it. Yes, vampires were hated and feared amongst humans, but like humans, there were always going to be some weeds mixed in with the wheat. Wynter prided herself on being wheat and of eradicating the weeds. She hated being mistaken for a weed.

"Why can't he understand this?" she mumbled, "Not all vampires are bad. I just don't get it,"

She shifted to the right, aiming for the river. She decided to touch down on top of the bridge and spend some time thinking. It was the only place she wouldn't be bothered during a time like this.

/ooo/

Looking back, Wynter figured that maybe, things began to change the day she was called into Integra's office, along with Alucard and Anderson. Wynter was the last to arrive, having been asleep downstairs when Seras came to get her. She found Integra looking over what appeared to be some kind of invitation. She glanced up gravely when she came inside and shut the door, casting a furtive glance at the other two in the room.

"Wynter," Integra said coolly, "It would seem that we may have been found out,"

Wynter felt a stab of fear at this. Found out? That could mean anything!

"Found out," she repeated slowly, glancing over at Anderson. He didn't move, but she could sense he was anxious. It seemed he'd gotten the same bad inclination. Wynter frowned and turned back to Integra, "Are you saying that his location has been discovered by the Vatican?"

"Quite possibly," Integra said grimly, "As you're well aware, Wynter, we agreed to hide him here because he may be the best bet to help us stop whatever Enrico Maxwell is planning. Judging from this letter I received today, I'm willing to bet that our efforts may have proved worthless,"

She held it out to Alucard who stepped forward to take it. He scanned through it quietly, his expression never changing. "I see," he said at last, "So it's simply a repeat of two years ago, then. Not very imaginative, are they?"

"An invitation to the national gallery, again," Integra said distastefully, "Creativity is not his strong suit, apparently,"

"Maxwell wants to speak to you," Wynter said. Integra frowned, "It's not just me, Wynter. He's requested I bring you and Alucard along as well. To me, this hints that Maxwell may have a general idea of Anderson's location, but he can't prove that he's here. It seems Anderson is still safe here for the moment,"

"Ah'm surprised ye're goin' tae such great lengths tae keep mah position ae secret, Hellsing," Anderson remarked.

"I'm looking at the big picture, Anderson," Integra replied, "Keeping you hidden from the Vatican while the order for your death has been issued is only a small piece of this much bigger puzzle. If it will benefit the entire nation in the long run, I'm willing to make this sacrifice. Wynter, Alucard, best go prepare yourselves. Alucard will probably hide himself, but Wynter, I want you with me. I'm taking no chances on this, do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir Integra," Wynter answered. Integra turned to Anderson, "You're not a part of Hellsing. I give you no orders to hide while we're there. I merely recommend that you do so if you wish to improve your chances on the fact that Maxwell likely doesn't really know where you are. This may be a bluff, or it may be an attempt to get myself and my most powerful agents out of Hellsing to allow for an invasion like last time,"

Anderson nodded gravely. He understood the situation completely, thankfully. Integra stood up, "Seras and Sasha Pevensy are remaining here. An extra vampire and a former vampire-hunter never hurt the equation," she said ruefully, "Walter, send for a car. We'll be leaving within the hour,"

"Of course, sir," Walter said with a bow.

Alucard grinned as he approached the wall, slowly moving through it, "This sounds _like a lot of fun_," he said as he vanished. Wynter watched him go and then turned to the door.

"Wait," Anderson said suddenly. Wynter paused and glanced over at him. "Yes?"

"Ah'd like ae word wi' ye,"

Wynter led him outside to the front entrance where they wouldn't be overheard. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, "Okay, what's wrong?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Listen," he said, "Ah knoo something's wroong wi' Maxwell. He's never acted like this before. Ah'm pretty convinced that he's no' acting completely o' his oon will,"

"So you're saying he's possessed?" Wynter asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nae, Ah'm saying something's wroong," Anderson said again, "Because o' this, Ah want tae try tae solve this wi'oot killing him, ye understand?"

Wynter frowned concernedly. For the first time, Anderson seemed...weary. That smug expression was gone, replaced by worry and fatigue.

"Hey," she said, "You really do care about what happens to him, don't you?"

He chuckled dryly, "Ah practically raised that daft idiot," he said with a shrug, "He's always been headstroong. He's oonly doin' his job, he's just goin' aboout it the wroong way,"

"So then you're not angry that he's trying to kill you?" Wynter pried.

"Ah'm ae bit confused, but nae, Ah'm no' angry. Ah said before, something's wroong wi' him,"

Wynter smiled and shook her head, "Who knew you had a good side?" she mused. He scowled, "Watch it, vampire," he snarled.

"I'm only messing with you. If I can't have a little fun, I might as well leave," she said. She moved forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder, surprising him, "Look," she said, "We'll figure this out, get the situation back under control and return to fighting as usual. Stop worrying so much,"

"And who said Ah was?" he grumbled as she started back toward the door. She turned, "So you don't show it? You can't hide these things from a vampire. Of course, if you took the time to actually try to understand us a little better, you'd have known that already. Well, I have to go and get ready. See you later," she said as she hurried back inside. Anderson stared after her in bewilderment, " 'Understand them better'? What's tae understand? Ae vampire is ae vampire," he muttered to himself. That's what he'd always told himself and he'd always believed it, used it to destroy something that looked and acted so incredibly human.

So how come all of a sudden it didn't sound convincing anymore?

A/N: I wanted to write in a Round Table meeting and I got the chance to! Also, I'm kind of changing the plot ever-so-slightly to erase any traces of the dead plot I was originally following, but that got scrapped sometime in between then and now. So please pardon my remodeling. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	15. Fourteen

A/N: Whew! I got a new job working in a deli/bakery at a little grocery store in Sylvania. I can't believe how busy it is! We've got to be THE busiest people in the whole dang store! I have 8-hour shifts, so understandably, I'm beat when I get home and can't often write. Please forgive the lack of updates until now. I'll do my best to get them out faster, I promise.

Fourteen

Wynter walked with Sasha through the empty, quiet corridors toward the main entrance. She'd chosen to wear her usual plain clothes; the white summer dress and matching sandals, the white sun hat and the shawl hiding all of her weapons.

Sasha moaned nervously, "Wynter, I really don't like this," she said.

"It'll be fine; I'm only accompanying Sir Integra to the gallery," she said, "I'll be there and back before you can blink,"

"Yeah, I'm just afraid you'll come back in an urn," Sasha muttered. Wynter started laughing bemusedly, "That's a new one!" she exclaimed, "You should really try writing books, Sasha. It'll help you find someplace to put all of that imaginative fodder you come up with,"

"But I'm serious," Sasha protested. Wynter's face grew grimly serious all of a sudden, "I know you are, Sasha," she told her, "And I promise I'll be careful. But I still have to go, okay?"

Sasha still didn't seem convinced. Wynter sighed, "Listen, I'm a lot older and wiser than I often act, Sasha. I know how to handle anything because I've experienced everything at least twice," she said.

"Except dying," Sasha mumbled.

"Actually, yes, even dying. Sasha, I'm undead, don't forget. Look, everything's going to be fine. Okay?" Wynter said, looking her friend straight in the eye. Sasha managed a small smile and nodded. Wynter turned away, leaving her at the door to watch as she joined Integra, Walter and Alucard. She heard Seras come up behind her, "Well, this is it. If it turns out that they've really found him, we're in for a rough battle," she said.

"You think so, huh?" Sasha mumbled. They watched as the car drove away toward the city of London.

/ooo/

Alucard moved off somewhere else when they got there. Integra, Walter, and Wynter made their way inside the gallery. There weren't many people here, but this just made things easier for a couple of vampires to operate a strategy without being spotted.

"Now, do you remember what I told you?" Integra asked Wynter.

"Yes," Wynter replied, "Stand off a good distance and pretend to examine the paintings. I have to keep a close eye on Maxwell, so I won't be far away. I'm to move in if he starts behaving suspiciously,"

Integra nodded, "Good. With him, there's no such thing as too much backup,"

This time, Maxwell requested the meeting in the sculpture hall. Mostly ceramics and other marble creations. Wynter moved off a ways to pretend to look at an elegantly carved stone vase from Pompeii. In the meantime, Integra sat down on a bench against the wall to wait. Walter stood a few feet away, hands folded behind him, glancing around casually.

"I wonder if he'll be on time," he said.

"I would hope so. If he plans to attempt to ruin our plans, he won't want to miss it," Integra grumbled. She glanced over at Wynter, standing so still she could easily have been mistaken for one of the statues. Wynter sensed she was being watched and turned ever-so-slightly, her red eyes blazing. She nodded to Integra, signaling someone's approach. Integra frowned, looking off to the right as Maxwell and Father Reynaldo approached, Maxwell looking somewhat peeved through his usual smug smirk.

"Ah, I see you made it," he said, "So good of you to accept my invitation. The gallery just opened a new wing and I felt compelled to see it before it became too crowded,"

"Or perhaps you were searching for something," Integra grumbled, remaining seated rather than politely getting up. Across the room, Wynter ruffled her wings. For some reason, she was getting an incredible headache.

Maxwell cleared his throat at the breach in etiquette, "Searching for what, may I ask?"

"Tell me, why did you really come here? As I recall, you detest London," Integra said, sounding bored. If Maxwell really didn't suspect Anderson to be here, then there was no point in accidentally giving it away.

Maxwell's eyes took on a menacing gleam, "Why, I came hoping to find out the location of a dear old friend," he hissed.

Wynter tensed up, casting a furtive glance back. She caught sight of Maxwell and suddenly, her head began to pound. She grunted and placed her hand across her eyes, gritting her teeth together.

"Old friend," Integra muttered, "So then what does that have to do with us?"

"Well, this old friend of mine often came to this country to attempt to hunt down a certain vampire. I figured that since he can't be found anywhere else in Italy or in the surrounding countrysides, he might have come here to try again,"

"I see," Integra said, "But that still doesn't answer my question. Who are you looking for and what does it have to do with the Hellsing organization?"

Maxwell chuckled, "Well, Integra Hellsing, I'm sure you're familiar with our agent, Anderson. I'm afraid he seems to have gone missing, as of late and I've been so worried,"

Integra's eyes narrowed, "I'll ask you again, what does that have to do with us?" she asked in a strained voice.

Maxwell hummed, "I have reason to believe that Hellsing may have..._assisted _in his disappearance. So then, if you'd be so kind, please tell me where he might be found. It's imperative that he return to the Vatican immediately,"

Integra smirked, "I get it," she said, "You suspect us of harboring a runaway, is that right?"

"Such blunt words. But yes, if you want to get straight to the point, I do," Maxwell replied, "So then, if you'd kindly tell me where he is, I'll return to Rome immediately and we can pretend this never happened,"

Integra sighed, "I truly hate to disappoint you," she said with the exact opposite in tone, "But we have no idea where Mr. Anderson is. I didn't even know he was missing until now,"

Maxwell's left eye started twitching, "You're not a very skilled liar, are you?" he growled. Integra chuckled, "It just so happens I am. But you're not worth the effort it would take. However, this time I'm telling the truth. I have no idea as to where he might be, and even if I did—" her eyes flashed dangerously "—You're the last person I would tell,"

Maxwell grinned, "Hm, care to reconsider those words?" he asked, snapping his fingers. Reynaldo started to step forward, but Maxwell held his arm out, "No, not you," he said, "I'd like to give them a shot at it,"

Integra's eyes widened, " 'Them'?" she asked.

From around the corner about twenty feet away, a pair of children stepped out from the shadows. One boy wearing the Iscariot uniform and a girl of the same age wearing a nun's habit. Identical, albino twins. They didn't come any closer, but Maxwell extended his arm in their direction, "Ahem, allow me to introduce Holy Sword Giuseppe and Holy Shield Mireille," he said with grandiose, "The Vatican's newest innovations in divine technology,"

"Hm," Integra said, "So this is what you created,"

"I take it you're aware of the situation?" Maxwell chimed.

"I had heard rumors, nothing more, but I wasn't aware of the entire picture," Integra said, frowning, "They're young children,"

"Absolutely. We discovered that the younger the subject, the easier the process is on the body. It's no wonder Anderson was the only survivor," Maxwell said proudly.

At this, Wynter whirled and stalked over, standing beside Integra, her eyes flaming. Maxwell appeared surprised to see her and apparently didn't recognize her, "So then, who might this be?" he asked as Alucard moved out from the wall to stand on Integra's opposite side, double protection from the twins. Maxwell eyed Wynter carefully and then his eyes narrowed, "Ah, I see. You must be Alucard's other little toy," he taunted. Wynter didn't move. She knew he was trying to force her into action. She let Alucard do the talking, "Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Maxwell," he said.

"The pleasure is all mine," Maxwell said, "I see you've taken every precaution this time, bringing two vampires along for protection. I must commend you on your wisdom, Integra Hellsing,"

"Wisdom had nothing to do with it; you're just incredibly predictable," Integra backfired. Maxwell scowled and motioned the twins closer. They moved forward without a word, resembling dolls, but acting like robots.

"I truly don't want trouble," Maxwell insisted, "I only want to know where Anderson has hidden himself. It's fairly clear he's informed you of the situation in the Vatican, how Iscariot is divided and the majority of the members either dead, missing, or under my control. So why don't you just tell me what I need to know and I'll be on my way,"

Wynter's right arm suddenly turned jet black, morphing into shadow matter that trailed and bled to the floor, "How about I answer that for you?" she said.

"Defending your beloved rival, how poetic," Maxwell said, "As the old saying goes, there's more than one way to skin a cat,"

He snapped his fingers. Instantly, Giuseppe leaped forward, brandishing a sword from a scabbard on his back. His face expressionless, he charged toward Wynter, taking a vicious downward swipe at her and opening a large gash in her stomach. Wynter grunted in pain as the wound began to smolder as she staggered back, doubled over.

"Silver," she hissed. Several feet away, Alucard reached for the Jackal, but froze suddenly, frowning in consternation. Integra eyed him cautiously, "Alucard, what's wrong?"

"It's the strangest sensation, Integra," he said slowly, "I can't seem to move,"

Integra's eyes went wide and she whirled to Mireille, her eyes fixed on Alucard with a solid stare, the pupils seemingly becoming a myriad of different colors. She didn't blink. Integra swung around to Walter, also in the same state. His eyes shifted toward Integra, clear worry shining in them, "I'm very sorry," he said stiffly, "I-I can't seem to move either,"

Integra gasped sharply and turned to where Wynter was fighting off Giuseppe's lightning fast strikes and clearly being overpowered. She ducked to the right, but Giuseppe seemed to have predicted that and slashed his sword down, using his own momentum to intercept her movements and jab the blade directly into her neck. Wynter sank to her knees, an expression of fear and fury corroding her face. Giuseppe, showing no emotion whatsoever, yanked the blade free and swung the sword upside down, slashing it in a horizontal angle at the Draculina. Wynter was hurled across the room with a single, fluid stroke, cracking her head against the marble pillar with a force that would crush a human, splattering her blood across the surface and sinking to the floor in a dead faint. Giuseppe flicked the blood off the blade and moved in for the kill.

"That's enough, Giuseppe," Maxwell barked. To Integra's surprise, Giuseppe stopped dead in his tracks, his blank eyes still fixated on his target lying motionless on the floor in a small pool of blood.

At the same time, Alucard found he was able to move again, though he didn't draw his gun. He just calmly made his way over to Wynter, kneeling down and turning her onto her back to check on her.

Integra tore her eyes away from Wynter and glared at Maxwell, "So then, I assume this is the new power of the Vatican's section XIII?" she hissed.

"It is. One great difference between Giuseppe and his predecessor, he actually stops when I give the word. And to keep the fight fair, I had Mireille prevent your other two guards from stepping in. That vampire should consider herself lucky; I could have allowed Giuseppe to swipe her head off in a single stroke and take it back to the Vatican as a trophy," he snarled with a vicious glee.

"You call that a fair—" Walter started to yell, but Integra held him back as Maxwell started off, Reynaldo and the twins following closely.

"No, Walter," she said quietly, "That's enough," she glanced at Alucard as he gently gathered Wynter's unconscious form into his arms, "We've suffered enough casualties, today,"

Alucard came back over, "She's out cold," he said, "That kid is pretty powerful. It's not easy to knock out a vampire like this,"

Integra sighed heavily, "Lets' take her back to headquarters. It looks like we'd better be prepared,"

/ooo/

Too edgy to wait inside, Anderson had decided to sit on the steps outside to await their return. When they finally arrived, he looked up and watched it pull in. He expected some bad news, but nothing prepared him for what he saw.

Alucard, rather than returning on his own, had chosen to ride back with Integra and Walter and Anderson quickly saw why as the vampire got out of the car carrying Wynter's bloodied and limp body. Anderson stood up, frowning as Alucard and Integra approached, leaving Walter to take the car away.

"What happened?" Anderson asked, glancing down at Wynter. She was covered in blood, there was a horrible gash festering in her abdomen and another one running up her neck. Blood matted through her thick hair, giving it a sickening auburn sheen in the light. He supposed that being knocked out, she couldn't begin the regeneration process. That's when it hit him what must have happened. He scowled, "Maxwell broought them," he stated grimly.

"He did," Integra said blankly, "And you were right; these new agents are quite powerful. Have you gone up against them before?"

"Ah have," Anderson admitted. Integra frowned, "Well, then you were lucky to escape with your life, Anderson. If they did this to a powerful vampire, imagine what would happen to a frail human. Excuse us," she said, pushing past him. Alucard followed her inside, looking a tad more serious than normal. Anderson watched them go, the uneasiness returning in amplified levels. He shook his head. This was no time to worry, he thought. Then, he froze. Just why was he worried to begin with? He glanced back the way they'd gone. Was that vampire going to be all right? After all, he'd barely survived a scrape with Giuseppe when the boy had just begun his training. This was weeks later and Giuseppe was powerful enough to incapacitate a vampire.

He sighed and shook his head. Maybe he really _was_ losing it. Was he actually worried about Wynter? Yeah, of course he was. It was because he wanted to be the one who killed her. Until he could be the one who stabbed her heart, ending her life, of course he'd be worried if someone else attempted to.

"Agh," he growled, "Ah'm losing it,"

He went back inside as the sun started to reach the setting point in the sky.

/ooo/

Wynter awoke with a feeling of despair. She'd failed. She'd gone up against an opponent and lost simply because his master called him off. Lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, Wynter felt the emptiness of loss beginning its feast on her. How could she be so careless?

"Oh good, you're awake, I see,"

Wynter sighed heavily, "Hello, Walter," she mumbled, "You weren't hurt in the fight, were you?"

He chuckled, "Not in the slightest, Wynter," he said, thankfully dropping the formalities. Wynter sat up and winced, still feeling the wounds she'd sustained. She'd bear those scars for a while. She smiled at a sudden strange thought and laughed to herself. Walter, busy placing a bag of blood in the new ice bucket, looked up and frowned curiously, "What's so humorous?" he asked.

"I was just counting how lucky I am not to be human anymore, what with all of the scars I've got, plus the two more I just received. I'd probably frighten away any potential suitors," she said mirthfully, sitting up. Walter chuckled again, "Well, maybe, maybe not," he said, "I've heard it said before that true love spawns not from appearances, but from compatibility of the souls, or something like that,"

"Heck if I know," Wynter muttered, "There's no such thing, anymore. It died out with the emergence of space travel,"

"Now why do you say that?" Walter asked as she got up and headed for the door. She paused in the act of opening it, "Because that's when I began to notice its disappearance in the human world," she said without turning around. And with that, she left. Walter hummed, scratching his chin, "Now I wonder what was wrong with her," he mumbled.

Wynter felt bad for being so cynical to Walter. After all, the old man had done nothing wrong. But she just felt lousy. She'd failed in a fight against an opponent. She hadn't lost a fight in decades. She sighed, "I guess I'll go sit outside for a bit. I hope there's a nice moon,"

She made her way out to the front steps, gazing up at the sky as she sat down and sighed again. The moon was out, but it was only a crescent moon, just about to become new. Not much for viewing. She folded her knees up, bringing her hand up to feel the scar at her neck. It would take a few months to disappear completely, but it wasn't the scar that was bothering her.

"Damn," she muttered, "How could I lose? I never lose anymore. I was powerful, so why did I go down so easily?"

"Talking tae yerself is ae sign o' madness, vampire,"

Wynter jumped sharply and whirled, eyes blazing and fangs bared. She paused, blinked a few times in surprise as he approached. Her shoulders sagged and returned to her previous position, "What are you doing here?" she asked distastefully. He sat down a few feet away with a sigh, resting his arm on one upraised knee, "The same as yerself, apparently," he replied.

"I guess you lost to them too, huh?" she mumbled, "I just went down so easily. I couldn't even fight back, and look what happened. I got gutted,"

"Hoo many people get tae say that in their lifetimes?" he mused, chuckling. Wynter grumbled to herself and turned to him, "Well how many people get to cut off a person's head _twice?_" she exclaimed.

"Point taken," he said. They fell silent for a little while, Anderson mulling over his own thoughts and Wynter dwelling on her defeat.

He cast a quick glance over at her. She'd shrunk in on herself, unable to accept her loss. She kept shaking her head. He sighed heavily, "Doon't tell meh ye've never lost ae fight before," he said.

"Of course I have, just not so pathetically," Wynter snapped. But as soon as it flared up, her anger died and she looked away, "I just...I can't explain it, but I felt something was wrong, anyway. Not just before I faced Giuseppe, but after, also,"

"What dae ye mean?"

"I mean that, for some reason, when I heard Maxwell's voice and then saw his face, my head started to hurt. I suddenly felt both afraid and angry at the same time, but I can't figure out why, especially seeing how I've never even met him before today. But this certainly didn't help my fight with Giuseppe. I was just...overwhelmed and— wait, why the hell am I telling you all this?" she exclaimed, suddenly angry again.

"And why no'?" he asked nonchalantly, "It's no' like there's anyone Ah'd tell,"

"That's not the point! Ugh, forget it," she grumbled, "That pain and hatred just reminds me of Arakawa,"

Anderson frowned, "Who's that?" he asked.

"The woman whose ancestor enslaved me for twenty-four years. She came searching for me again last year, don't you remember? Thankfully, she's been deported back to Japan, awaiting trial. If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. You know, sometimes I think that humans are the scariest creatures out there. They're so quick to destroy what they don't understand,"

"Ah'm human, vampire," Anderson pointed out.

"I know," she said simply.

"Agh," he grumbled, "Ah doon't understand why Ah cannae just kill ye, already,"

"Maybe because you're just like me," she suggested. He whirled, "What!" he snapped. She shook her head, "Never mind, I'll tell you some other time. In the meantime, why are you out here? Humans typically sleep at night,"

He turned back toward the horizon, "Ah cannae sleep," he said, "This place is unfamiliar,"

"Homesick?" Wynter ventured. He glowered at her, but didn't answer. Wynter knew she'd been right on the dot. She nodded, "I sometimes feel that way, and I don't even have a place to call home," she said, "I guess it's a subconscious desire to return to France where I was born. But that would mean crossing the water. It's hard, so I don't do it much. Oh, Anderson, that reminds me, did you ever consider the debt?"

He looked up at her curiously, "Nae, Ah haven't," he said, "But technically, ye owe that debt tae the Iscariots, no' mehself,"

"No, I owe it to you, only. None of the other Iscariots would have considered my pleas for help to be anything but a trick. For all I know, you were no different, but the point is that you helped me. Even sacrificing my pride and getting to my knees, I wasn't sure of the outcome. So I thank you. You really are a kind person, just a bit rough," she said with a smile, It's kind of weird, you two are so different, yet you remind me just a little bit of an old friend I used to have,"

"Ah'm no' sure that's ae good thing; Ah'll be the one takin' yer life, vampire,"

"So you've told me. I understand, but please, don't tell me again. Instead, tell me whatever you know about the twins,"

Anderson regarded her coolly. She was watching him expectantly and at the moment, looked so much like a human that for that split second, he almost forgot she wasn't.

"Ah doon't know much," he admitted, "Ah'm only sure that Maxwell's been sending them tae Germany, Poland, and England tae kill Protestants and Jews as part o' their 'training'."

"You don't sound too thrilled," Wynter stated, "I thought you hated Protestants, and any other non-Catholic for that matter,"

"Ye're right," he said simply, "Hooever, ae human life is ae human life. Ah doon't like hoo Maxwell's turned the Iscariot Organization intae ae senseless bunch o' murderers. The humans that died sae far did nothing wroong. They dinnae deserve tae die like that," he said quietly.

"Tell me something," Wynter said, "You claim to hate everyone who doesn't believe in your God. So why do you express sorrow over their deaths?"

Anderson breathed a heavy, fatigued sigh and stared up at the crescent moon hanging aloft in the inky night sky, "Ah suppose that Maxwell may have been right," he said.

"Right about what?"

"Before Ah left, he told meh that one reason he created the twins was because o' mah nature. Ah'm ae certified priest, after all. Ah suppose Ah'd be happy if the Lord would save everyone. This belief sometimes makes it slightly difficult faur meh tae kill innocent humans, nae matter wha' their religion," he said.

"But you do it anyway," Wynter stated.

"Ah've go' nae other choice, vampire," he grumbled. Wynter hummed slightly and then chuckled to herself. He glanced at her strangely, "What's sae funny?" he asked.

"You know, it's kind of weird. Just barely a month ago, you were about to impale me after that fire at the bakery. And now, here we are, sitting and discussing the unfairness of the world like a couple of old friends,"

Anderson glared at her like she was insane, but he said nothing in reply. He'd gotten the same feeling and it _was_ weird. He wasn't about to admit it to her, but he actually kind of enjoyed talking to her. She was intelligent and even though she drove him crazy, she really understood when he told her something. He was slightly ashamed to admit it, but it really was too bad it had to end once he finally took her life.

"Ye dae realize that nothing changes," he said.

"I know," she answered, "You'll be here for a long while, at least until we get this mess with the Vatican sorted out. If fate allows us to meet here again to chat, I look forward to it. But you know, we could even solve this thing tomorrow, so I'm not sure,"

"Ah doon't believe in fate," Anderson said.

"Oh, you don't believe in anything," Wynter muttered.

"Doon't act like ye know meh, vampire!" he yelled. Wynter smiled slyly, "Oh, but I do know you. I know you hate me and I also know that you hate it when I mess with you," she said, laughing. She ducked as he took a swing at her and continued laughing, "You see?" she exclaimed, "You're fun to mess with because you're so hotheaded,"

"Coexisting with ae smart-mouthed vampire like ye would be enough tae make anyone that way!" he shouted angrily.

"Well I'm sorry I'm so witty! How's that for a retort, Mad Priest?"

"Ah told ye tae stop calling meh that!"

"What? I'm only telling it like it is!"

"That's no' the point!"

Upstairs on the second floor, Integra sat on a chair beside her bedroom window, wrapped in her robe and looking out over the grounds with a book in her hands. The window was open slightly, but she could hear the amusing argument down below quite clearly. She chuckled as she returned to her book, shaking her head, "She was right the first time," she said to herself, turning a page, "They _are_ like a couple of old friends,"

Alucard stood a few feet away, arms folded, gazing out the window. He grinned, "How fun," he said cheerfully, "It seems my little girl found something to occupy her time,"

"Don't do that; it's weird," Integra stated, not looking up, "But I do wonder about something. Anderson claims to hate all vampires, but he seems to be making an exception. Had it been you insulting him, he'd have sliced your head off by this point,"

Alucard watched as Wynter took off across the grounds, narrowly avoiding impalement on a dozen or so bayonets Anderson hurled after her in anger. She continued to laugh as every one of his attacks missed.

"I'm not so sure it's an exception," he said, "It seems more like...fascination,"

"How so?" Integra asked.

"Wynter is like me, in that she's fascinated by humans. It seems Anderson is fascinated by the one vampire other than me that he can't seem to kill. I have to say, this is one little unlikely friendship I'm looking forward to seeing future development of,"

Integra eyed her servant curiously, but shook her head with a sigh, getting to her feet and moving to sit down on her bed, "In any case, I'm exhausted. Good night, Alucard," she grumbled, knowing it was pointless to tell him to leave. She pulled the covers up over herself and closed her eyes, knowing he'd probably stay there for several more hours. He had a strange habit of watching her sleep. But to her surprise, he departed after only a few minutes, "Pleasant dreams, my master," he said, his voice dying away as he warped through the walls. Integra raised her head to peer at where he'd been, but he was gone. She frowned and lay back down, closing her eyes with a sigh. The pair arguing outside continued to meet her ears until she finally drifted to sleep, still slightly amused.

A/N: Sleepy...anyway, tell me what you think of Giuseppe and Mireille. Part of the story was based on how they can be defeated and I finally came up with a way to do it! Now, I'm beat. I'm signing off for now. (yawn)


	16. Fifteen

A/N: I normally wait until I receive feedback from MarzBarz, but she seems to have vanished for the moment. I hope I hear from you soon, MarzBarz-chan! In any case, here's the new update and the story is just about finished. On my end, that is, not yours. There's over ten chapters following this one that I have yet to update. Massive writer's block isn't fun and I don't have as much time to write thanks to my new job. Oh well. Enjoy!

Fifteen

The last thing he remembered was standing in the room he'd been assigned before. Anderson was sure he was awake as cloud drifts began to swirl about around him, gradually covering his field of vision. Soon, nothing but white mist could be seen and he remembered this mist. He'd come to this place before, during a single dream. His eyes narrowed and he turned around, expecting to see or hear something familiar.

He was right.

"_I see you've returned," _

"Aye, but no' by choice," he replied calmly, scanning the mist for any sign of movement, "What dae ye want? Are ye going tae reveal yerself this time?"

"_My form is not complete. You may catch a glimpse of my shadow, but I have not yet become something that you would recognize or understand," _

"Ye're speaking in riddles," he pointed out, "Ah deal with ae lot o' things Ah barely understand,"

"_True, I'm sure you do. However, I can promise that you have never seen anything like me before today. Be patient; I will reveal myself to you soon, for I desire your help," _

"And hoo can Ah help ye when Ah cannae even see ye?" he asked.

"_You've been helping me. I took a great risk in sending my medium to you. Yet you rose over that challenge wonderfully. I applaud your efforts, small as they may be," _

Anderson frowned, "Medium? What dae ye mean?"

"_My medium, my one tie to your world, the only thing that prevents my complete passing. I cannot move on until I am pacified," _

"Ae wandering spirit," Anderson mumbled under his breath, "Ah doon't put much stock in yer kind,"

"_Wandering spirit, Ikiryo, goblin, poltergeist, demonic presence, all of these apply to what I am. You have every right to doubt my word. However, being what you are is enough for you to speak with me," _

"What Ah am?"

_"Your spiritual energy is very strong. It's very helpful knowing I can contact you, even though the one I truly wish to speak to possesses no spiritual energy whatsoever and never really did to begin with." _

"Sae tell meh who yer medium is, then," he said skeptically.

"_You've already met and you already spoke with me. However, like I said before, I am difficult to understand, yet you seem able to overcome that barrier," _

"Wait," he said suddenly, "Does that mean that ye ae the one who possessed that vampire?"

"_I must warn you to be careful. The next time we meet, my hatred will again consume me. Only in this place is my calm restored enough to speak to you. Should we meet again before I have completely manifested, you must take great care not to let my medium injure you. She will not be capable of controlling her actions,"_

The clouds began to fluctuate, circling wildly around him. Anderson cast about, searching for the source of the voice, but before he could begin looking, he blinked just once and found himself back in the confines of the Hellsing manor where he'd started, sitting on the floor against the wall. He took a few seconds to regain his composure before standing up slowly, looking around in confusion. Last time, she told him to remember the name Bianca. He assumed that that was probably her name. But this time, he'd learned that she had a medium in this world. As much as he hated to admit it, the only person that came to mind who fit the description was Wynter. Was she the medium Bianca spoke of? It made sense, actually. Wynter's possession the other night had probably been influenced by Bianca. However, she'd warned him to not allow himself injury by her should she appear again. Did that mean that Wynter was going to be possessed again? Why? What was Bianca so vengeful about that she'd possess a vampire to exact her vengeance? But there was yet one more question that bothered him. Why was he able to speak to her in English in a semi-awakened state, but when she possessed Wynter, he had to speak Italian to communicate with her?

"This is getting confusing," he muttered.

/ooo/

Wynter still felt depressed for losing so easily to Giuseppe. Every day, she went out flying, trying to think of ways to train herself and every night, she sat out on the front steps, staring up at the sky, lost in thought. She wasn't sure what to do.

Now, she sat grooming her wings, her depression mounting. Because of her defeat, she was going to consider it her mission to return the favor to Giuseppe. She wasn't going to take this sitting down.

However, she had no idea how to defeat him. He'd come at her so fast and she'd been torn apart before she knew what hit her.

Her cell phone began to ring suddenly. She picked it up, "Hello?"

"_Good evening, Wynter, it's Marjorie,_"

"Oh, hey Marjorie, what's going on?" Wynter asked.

"_You hadn't checked in for a while and I grew worried. How's the situation in Rome?" _

"Could be better. Enrico Maxwell had a brand new weapon that I have to say, is quite effective,"

Marjorie gasped sharply, "_Oh, you weren't hurt, were you?_" she exclaimed in alarm.

"I got sliced open, no big deal. I'm fine," Wynter said. Marjorie breathed a sigh of relief, "_That's good to hear, that you're fine, I mean," _she said, "_So what's the status on this new weapon?_"

"It's a pair of twin children named Holy Sword Giuseppe and Holy Shield Mireille. Anderson told me that it's likely they've been equipped with the same implants that he was, only modified, making them far stronger. I suspect we're going to have some trouble on our hands," Wynter said with a sigh.

"_How did Anderson tell you this?_"

"We're allies for now," Wynter explained. She expected Marjorie to freak out, but surprisingly, she didn't. Wynter frowned at the phone, "So...aren't you going to say anything?" she pried.

"_What do you want me to say? It's just like you to befriend our greatest enemy," _Marjorie said with evident distaste. Wynter sighed, "It isn't like that, Marjorie. He's by far the lesser of the two evils we're currently dealing with. In fact, he's going to help us get this back under control,"

"_Wynter, I don't usually disapprove of your decisions, but this time, you've gone too far. He's nearly killed you four times!" _

"Marjorie—"

"_No, Wynter. Don't contact us again until you've sorted this out yourself. We can't risk the cabal's safety like this. I'm sorry but now, you're on your own,"_

She hung up. Wynter slowly lowered the phone, staring at it in bewilderment. She shook her head in disbelief, "No," she mumbled, " Am I...am I really alone, now?"

She scowled suddenly and whipped the phone across the grounds with an angry cry, burying her face in her arms and sighing heavily, "Damn," she hissed, "I've really done it this time. Wynter, you're so stupid!"

She unfurled her wings, beating them viciously and scattering feathers as she lifted off into the air, hurtling straight up into the dark abyss of the sky. The moon was gone, the blinking the stars the only light. Wynter's black wings tore across the night sky as she soared higher and higher. She felt the strain as her muscles protested the continuous motion until finally, she stopped, the cool night air tearing through her hair as she felt that thrilling sensation of weightlessness take over. She folded her wings in, her body going limp as she closed her eyes, hurtling back toward the ground at a breakneck speed. Faster and faster, closer and closer, Wynter felt the wind rushing past her ears, deafening all other sounds. Her heart beat from the sheer adrenaline and she truly felt alive as she neared the ground for what would ordinarily be a crushing death to a human. She flipped around, squinting at the screaming wind as she Hellsing estate came back into vision. She opened her wings, balancing them on the lashing air currents as she tore across the face of the earth, creating an air funnel around her that dragged all kinds of earthly debris into an upward spiral. She threw her wings back, preparing to land. She touched down and missed her footing, smashing hard into the earth and feeling several bones crack against the pressure. She finally came to a stop, feeling the ache all over from both the pain and the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She tried to stand up and fell back down, her broken leg protesting the abuse. Wynter chuckled to herself as she staggered back up, slowly limping back toward the front entrance.

As she made her way inside, she was oblivious to the fact that the entire time she was venting, she was being watched.

/ooo/

Sasha opened up the door leading down to the underground catacombs that the Hellsing vampires called home. The pathway was dark and the air was stale. Her heart hammered in fear, almost threatening to break loose from her chest. She swallowed, "Oh jeez," she mumbled, "This place is just too eerie. Oh, get a hold of yourself, Sasha Marie Pevensy, you used to hunt vampires for a living. You've entered abandoned graveyards, old forgotten mansions and even a morgue or two in your day; this is nothing,"

Yeah, it sounded all right. The problem was that there weren't just vampires down there. Integra mentioned that there was a prison down there, some of the cells even still containing skeletons. Vampires she could handle. Ghosts, however, absolutely _terrified_ her.

She felt her way along the wall, trying to remember Wynter's complex directions to reach her chamber deep beneath the sub levels. If she recalled them correctly, it was to head straight down the main corridor and take a right at the third hallway. The only problem was that Sasha had long since lost her night vision when she retired from vampire-hunting. She could no longer see in the dark like she used to.

She smacked into the wall and moaned as she rubbed her nose painfully. She glanced up and recognized the hallway from Wynter's descriptions. Her chamber was at the end, she believed. However, before she could proceed, she heard it: "_Eeeeeeaaagh! __No! No, non può essere! Non può essere! __Accidenti, non lascerò ottenere via con questo!" _

Sasha frowned, blinking in surprise, "Wha? Is that Wynter?" she said, "Oh no, she's having another one, isn't she?"

Sasha hurried down the hallway, pausing outside Wynter's door. She pulled her handgun out from beneath her shirt and braced it up, standing beside her friend's door. The door swung open suddenly and Wynter flew out, crashing into the wall and slumping to the floor. She groaned and sat up, eyes wildly darting about the hallway, finally fixing on Sasha.

"_S-S-Saara_?" she stammered. Sasha faltered momentarily, but smiled, "No, Wyn, it's me, Sasha, remember?"

Talking gently to her had worked once or twice before, but Sasha had no idea if it would work again. Wynter's eyes blazed and she sat up, groping along the wall for a hand-hold, "_Impostore,_" she hissed, "_Non sei Saara,_"

This was relatively new. Wynter had never mentioned any names before today. Sasha frowned, "So uh, who's this Saara, anyway?" she asked.

But Wynter simply unfurled her wings with a sharp snap of the bones, "_Lo ti ammazzo!_" she shrieked, preparing to lunge. Sasha blanched and braced, shaking wildly with sudden terror.

"_Arrestare!_"

Sasha and Wynter both screamed as a multitude of sharp blades came sailing in their direction, missing Sasha by inches, but slicing through Wynter's body and sending her sprawling on the floor, bleeding heavily. Sasha looked back down the hallway as Anderson appeared, having come as fast as possible to stop this before it got too far once he heard the commotion. He frowned at Wynter, lying stunned on the floor, "no' again," he grumbled.

"Huh? So you've seen her do this, too?" Sasha ventured.

"Aye. Ah spoke tae her the last time. Ah doon't think that this is her anymore,"

"What in the world is that supposed to mean?" Sasha exclaimed. But he had no time to answer. Wynter sat up, moaning in pain as she slowly pulled each of the bayonets out of her body, one by one. The silver scorched her flesh and her eyes blazed severely, but to Sasha, it seemed that Anderson may have had a point; this couldn't have been Wynter.

Wynter clacked her teeth together angrily, "_Come osi attaccare me? Avate idea di chi sono io? Chi mi servono?_"

"Ye're Bianca, aren't ye?" Anderson replied, this time in English. This caused Sasha to frown in confusion, whereas Wynter just recoiled and looked away. Anderson hummed, "Sae ye can understand meh afterall," he said, "Can ye speak English?"

"Small bits," Wynter said. "No value,"

"So then," Sasha muttered, "This really isn't Wynter,"

Wynter looked up, but no recognition really dawned this time, "Forgive. No harm," she said in a heavy Italian accent. It seemed true; she didn't appear able to speak fluent English. This was completely opposite of Wynter herself, who spoke English perfectly, despite it not being her mother tongue.

"Why dae ye continue tae appear?" Anderson asked.

"Hatred. I chase...er...," she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of the correct English word. Finally, she gave up and sighed, "_Vendetta,_" she said in Italian.

"Vengeance?" Sasha exclaimed, "Vengeance for what?"

"She was talking aboout this last time," Anderson pointed out, "Tell meh, who dae ye want vengeance faur?"

Wynter shook her head bitterly, either not remembering or refusing to mention the name of whoever Bianca spoke of. "Dead. She is dead," she said in a strained, choked voice, "Killed. Killed,"

She doubled over, sobbing in abandon at the mention of the one killed. Sasha hesitantly approached and placed her hand on her friend's head. Wynter's head shot up in alarm, eyes wide with fear, "_Saara! Perdonami, ti prego! Non potrei difendere! Perdonami! Perdonami!_" she shrieked, temporarily forgetting to speak what little English she apparently understood.

Wynter suddenly slumped over, her choked sobs slowly dying as she gradually drifted back into a deep, deep sleep on the floor. Sasha gathered her limp body up against her, shaking her lightly in an attempt to wake her. Wynter moaned in her sleep, but did not awaken. Sasha frowned in concern and then looked up at Anderson, watching blankly.

"Tell me," she said, "What was she saying? How the hell do you know what's going on?"

"She was asking someone named Saara tae forgive her faur failing tae defend her. Ah'm assuming that this Saara is the deid girl she keeps speaking o'," he said grimly.

"That's fine, but that doesn't answer my other question, Anderson," Sasha snapped, "How the hell do you know what's going on?"

Anderson didn't answer her, not because he didn't want to— well, that was only partially true— but also because he wasn't sure how to reply. Sasha continued to yell after him as he turned and left, but he paid her no mind. He was confused enough as it was, no sense dragging another into this weird dilemma.

/ooo/

Wynter knew that something was wrong. She felt a deep sense of anxiety welling up inside her, but she couldn't seem to pinpoint its source. She hadn't felt this tense and upset since Tobias's death. She couldn't even face Seras and Alucard.

So, standing atop the manor, she opened her wings, caught a stray gust of wind and lifted into the sky, climbing higher and higher until the ground below her became a patchwork of colors and lights. With the wind rushing past her skin, she could feel her anxieties slipping away into nothingness. Her loss against Giuseppe. Her abandonment by the cabal. Her nightmares. This whole business with Anderson. Everything just slipped away from her as she wheeled south, diving down to fly over the bridge. She'd discovered a loophole to that old rule that she couldn't fly over water. It turned out that as long as she flew directly above the bridge leading off the island, she could effectively cross the sea to reach the mainland. Once across, the beat her wings hard, arcing back up into the sky, heading south, toward France.

There was someone she needed to talk with.

/ooo/

"She's gone," Integra stated. Walter nodded, "I'm afraid so," he said, "One of our men spotted her flying south about an hour ago. I'm afraid that Wynter has flown the coop, as they say," he said somewhat wearily. Integra sighed, "Her timing couldn't be worse. I think Alucard's getting bored again. Make sure to send out that announcement to our employees and please warn Anderson to steer clear of him,"

"Of course, madam," Walter said with a bow.

/ooo/

Wynter touched down just outside of Marseilles. The salty sea air reached her even this far from the water. It was a scent her body remembered. She felt the cool evening breeze rippling through her hair and pushed it back with a sigh. She folded her wings down, compressing them out of sight under her hair. She then turned around to gaze out over the horizon at the place she once called home.

Here, Marseilles, France. She'd been born here, in this beautiful, coastal town into an aristocratic family who'd shunned the bustling network of Paris to settle into a quiet lifestyle by the sea. Her family's manor lay up the path she stood on, further inland. Turning her back on the city she could barely remember, she proceeded forward down a road she instinctively remembered, even though her mind told her she'd never been here before. Soon, the old manor came into view and Wynter cast her eyes downward, unable to bear the sight of it. Its new owner had spent the better part of last year refurbishing the place, having taken residence here. Louis Von Brunswick had done a lot of work in a few months and already the place appeared to be returning to normal. She knew he'd sensed her presence long before she actually arrived and sure enough, the door swung open before she'd reached the front steps. Louis stepped out, smiling warmly, "Well, Genevieve," he said, "This is a pleasant surprise,"

"Hello, Louis," Wynter said quietly. Louis and Helene both refused to call her by her name, Wynter, referring to her by her old name, Genevieve. She'd long since accepted it.

Louis stepped back as she approached, inviting her in. Wynter swept past him and into the front hall. Louis shut the door and made his way around her, motioning her to follow him, "It isn't often you leave England," he stated, "And I have the distinct feeling that you didn't come here to enjoy a pleasant chat,"

"You're right. I came here hoping to talk to you," Wynter answered. Louis hummed as he led her down the hallway toward the drawing room. Wynter just followed him, unable to grasp the fact that this building used to be her home, the place where she spent her childhood.

"So tell me, Genevieve," Louis said, "How are you doing these days?"

"All right, I suppose. About as good as any Draculina can hope for," Wynter replied.

"That's very true. And what of your day-to-day life? Or should I say night-to-night?"

"Please don't joke," Wynter muttered, "I'm not in the mood,"

"My apologies,"

He moved into the drawing room and took a seat by the window. Wynter remained in the doorway, watching a young blond woman dusting the table a few feet away. She looked up and noticed Wynter, giving her a slight bow, "Good evening, miss," she said.

"Uh...good evening," Wynter said quickly, surprised to see a human maid working there.

"Florette," Louis said, "Please brew some tea when you get a moment,"

Florette bowed again, "Of course, sir," she said. She departed quickly and Wynter glanced over at Louis, who offered her the other chair. Wynter took a seat and glanced over at Louis, who crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands in his lap, reminding her heavily of Alucard.

"Isn't it risky having a human servant?" Wynter ventured, "Aren't you concerned she'll discover what you really are?"

"I'm quite confidant in my acting abilities, Genevieve," he said, "Besides, she shouldn't figure it out."

Wynter sighed, "Yeah, whatever,"

"So then, tell me, why have you come here?" Louis asked.

"I just needed to talk to someone," Wynter mumbled, "There's been...well, a lot going on,"

"Such as...?"

"Well, the cabal has abandoned me, I've been having weird nightmares and I've become allies with the man who wants to kill me. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary,"

Louis chuckled, "Ah Genevieve, your sense of humor is refreshing indeed," he said with grandiose, "However, I can tell that something is deeply troubling you."

Wynter paused, wondering where to begin, "I don't...I don't feel right. Ever since I lost to that child, that new weapon of the Vatican, my nightmares have been getting worse, more vivid than before. I see things I'm sure never happened. I see things that may have happened, but seem too crazy to be real. I don't know why I lost my memories and it's driving me insane!" she exclaimed bitterly.

Louis frowned, "Genevieve, listen to me," he said, "I don't know why you lost your memories, either. I wish I knew the reason behind these nightmares plaguing you. I wish I could help you. All I can do is tell you about who you used to be,"

Wynter looked away somberly. She was torn between wanting to know and wanting to put it behind her. Louis smiled warmly, "I know you're a different person now, Genevieve," he said, "You're no longer the innocent human girl you once were. But to me, you're still the same beautiful creature I fell in love with so long ago,"

But Wynter didn't react. She sat there, motionless, staring at the floor. Even when Florette came back in with the tea and set the cups on the table in front of them before departing, she still didn't move. Finally, Louis sighed and leaned back in his chair, "Genevieve, I'm going to tell you a little of your past," he said, "I recall our first meeting; you were about five. You were vivacious and sweet, as pure and innocent as any human could be. However, I could sense that something was very wrong with you,"

Here, Wynter's eyes flickered in his direction. He nodded, "I sensed that your body was increasingly weak. Part of the reason your parents came to Marseilles was to avoid the pollution and noise of Paris for your health. You were a very fragile girl, but so strong, Genevieve. Your illness baffled the doctors. I often discussed this matter with your mother. Your memories are gone and you were so young, but your mother took you to many specialists, hoping to discover either a cure or at the very least, specific diagnosis. And yet all the time, you grew more and more sickly until finally, you were bedridden with horrible fevers. So strong was your will that each and every time, you somehow managed to pull through. Many's the night I sat up with you, watching over you to allow your mother periods of rest. Seeing you suffer like that wrenched my heart out, Genevieve," he said gravely, "Powerful as I was, all I could do was hold your hand and will you to recover,"

"What...what was my illness?" Wynter asked quietly. Louis shook his head, "We never discovered what it was. I would have had to drink your blood in order to decipher it and I always resisted the temptation to take just a tiny amount while you slept. I gave you tea mixed with special herbs I acquired from trade with other vampires and countries. These herbs were potent and powerful. They managed to heal your body and strengthen it. By the time you were eight years of age, you were a healthy, vibrant child, once again. I adored you, Genevieve, I truly, truly did. I would have done anything if it meant seeing your smile,"

He paused and his smile faded, his expression growing dark, "But then, on your nineteenth birthday, your symptoms returned with a vengeance," he said, "You collapsed right there in the street while walking with that Mondago boy, whom I later discovered to be your fiance. I'll tell you this, Genevieve, you had once been betrothed, but he perished when you were sixteen. I must admit, I was rather relieved, for you thankfully don't remember how abusive he was toward you when the two of you were alone. But I seem to be digressing; you were rushed home and bedridden once again, the fever ravaging your body mercilessly. I tried once more to use the herbs, but your body resisted their properties. Again, you pulled through, but just barely. You and your parents were optimistic, but I knew that you would not outlast the year at this rate. I knew there was only one way to save you, Genevieve," he said grimly. He paused again, as though wondering how to inform her of this somewhat disturbing plan. He sighed, "I resolved to turn you myself in order to save you. I knew that if I proposed and you agreed to marry me, I would reveal my secret on our wedding night and acquire your consent to be changed into one of us. However, my plans were thwarted before they could even be set in motion. I proposed to you, but you informed me that I was too late and you were set to marry that Mondago boy,"

He sighed and buried his head in his hands, "Genevieve," he said, shaking his head, "I don't know what happened! Honest, I don't. I just...just snapped! I didn't mean to hurt you. I still curse myself for what I did to this very day. You had every right to carry your hatred for me into your next life, Genevieve," he exclaimed with a choked sob.

"Louis," Wynter mumbled, "I don't hate you. You're a good friend to me,"

He laughed dryly, "Wonderful. I'm a friend," he muttered.

"Oh come on, Louis," Wynter said in exasperation, "Listen, you know that I do care about you,"

He looked up, his face smiling but bitter, "But not in the way that I care about you," he said quietly.

"That's true, I'm afraid. Louis, I owe everything I am today to you. I can never forgive you for slaying my family, but if it hadn't been for you, I would have died, and very quickly, apparently. I have a true life now. As proper undead, I can live where I couldn't as a human. I'm strong and I've learned many things. I love Alucard like the father I can't remember. I love Seras like I do Helene, my younger sister. I have good friends in Walter and Integra, I have many acquaintances in the cabal and a purpose in life protecting them. I even have an interesting and intellectual enemy in Alexander Anderson," she said pleasantly. But Louis didn't seem moved so she sighed, "You still carry the guilt, don't you?"

"As I should," he answered plainly.

"Let go of it, Louis," Wynter told him sternly, "Time heals all wounds and mine have long since closed. I'm happy, Louis. I will live for as long as I want to, so I'll keep being happy,"

Louis glanced up at her sadly, "Forgive me, Genevieve," he mumbled, "If you cannot reciprocate my feelings toward you, you must disregard them. I fear that history may repeat itself,"

"Learn from your past mistakes, Louis," Wynter advised, "Don't make them twice,"

Louis chuckled, "You came to me seeking consolation. But it is I who was consoled,"

Wynter smiled and shrugged.

/ooo/

Night had almost completely fallen back in England. The sun was now nothing more than a pink and orange streak across the western horizon. All around, crickets were beginning to make their nightly calls and the cries of birds began to die down.

It was too quiet inside the hidden catacombs of the Hellsing estate. Unable to sleep or even think straight, Anderson made his way outside to the front steps and sat down, staring out at the setting sun. He was still homesick and worried about his living comrades. He hadn't heard back from Heinkel and Yumie for days. He hoped they'd made it to the ruins all right. He spent most of his time trying to sort out when Maxwell had started acting strangely. Anderson knew him to be a little abnormal now and again, but he was never downright cruel like this, at least not usually these days. He frowned at a strange coincidence he'd figured out earlier that day. Maxwell had started acting _really _weird roughly three or four weeks before. According to Sasha, that was around the same time that Wynter's wings erupted abnormally quickly. That was how it had sounded, anyway. Was it just a coincidence?

He sighed and shook his head. What was he thinking? Maybe he was losing it.

Almost on reflex, he glanced to the right, half-expecting to see her sitting there like she often did recently. But of course, Wynter wasn't there. She wasn't even in Hellsing right then. No one knew where she was, not even Sasha.

It was strange, but he found he actually missed talking to her. Just what was going on? This was one question he'd been asking himself for weeks. Why couldn't he kill Wynter? He despised the fact that someone else might try to and worse, succeed. Why? The reason was simple; he wanted to be the one to end her life. After all the times he'd tried and failed, it was his place to kill her. No one else. But then with all the opportunities he'd had to try, he always made excuses not to. He wasn't really even sure why. Of course, right now, he was just trying to figure out a way to get back home. For the moment, he and Wynter were temporary allies. But he knew that she had to die. She was a vampire, an unholy walking corpse. She and her kind weren't meant to exist.

But for some strange reason, her words the day she was defeated by Giuseppe came back to him.

_"If you'd actually taken the time to understand us a little better, you'd have already known that,"_

'Understand them better'? Those words continued to echo in his head. With this whole business concerning Maxwell and the Vatican, he had actually been toying with the idea that maybe...just maybe, Wynter might have had a point. After all, Wynter was definitely different from any other vampire he'd ever known. As much as he wanted to kill her, he had to admit he was curious. What was it about her that was so different?

He hummed and stared up at the sky. Maybe he'd hold off on killing her for a while. He'd try and figure out what he was still missing and then decide where he wanted to go from there. That was an idea he was happy with. After all, what did he have to lose?

A/N: Dang, fourteen pages! Not bad! I'm enjoying this story and don't want to see it end. But it has to at some point, unfortunately. Oh, and check out my other story, Uh Oh, Alucard's Bored Again if you feel like seeing Wynter in a different light. She cameos in that story, defending Hellsing against a barrage of vampiric boredom.

Remember my dream of making and Alucard plushie? I did it! I made a plushie of Alucard and he turned out sweet! Here's the link if anyone wants to see both him, and the Totoro plushie I made in tandem with him. .com/watch?v=B6fJl3xQ1UA


	17. Sixteen

A/N: All right, if anyone knows where MarzBarz is, I hope you can tell me. I'm starting to get worried. In any case, I have another chapter ready to go. My job is hectic and we're starting to get busy because of the holidays. The deli is probably the busiest place in the whole store! Sleepy...anyway, enjoy.

Sixteen

Twilight.

Wynter had remained in Marseilles for a little over a day, explaining the situation to Louis. The elder vampire had considered her story of the nightmares and possession by a wayward spirit calling itself Bianca. Fascinated by the tale, Louis told Wynter to stay for the day and he'd look into it. However, by the time Wynter awoke that evening and prepared to fly home, Louis had found nothing.

"I'll continue my search," he assured her, "This sounds intriguing,"

"I'm glad of that. This is actually getting a little bit scary. I don't know whether to call this spirit a friend or a parasite,"

"It might be a little of both. Now take care on your flight home," Louis said gently. Wynter smiled and nodded, unfurling her wings, "I will, Louis," she said. She took off down the hill, beating her wings as she went. She leaped into the air and caught a stray updraft, carrying her high into the sky above Marseilles. She wheeled north, heading back toward England, leaving her birthplace far behind.

/ooo/

Yumie was insistent.

She'd managed to scrounge out some old clothes from a donation bin across the street from the local pharmacy. Now, dressed as 'a random tourist boy', she stood in the alley arguing with Heinkel while Marcus and the others looked on in bewilderment.

"_Nein_," Heinkel hissed with a wave of her hand, her German mother tongue emerging through her irritation, "Yumie, you're going to get yourself killed!"

"Heinkel, you're being an idiot. Right now, it's dangerous for any of us to be in the Vatican. Talk about irony," Yumie muttered with a sigh.

"It's precisely the reason you can't go back," Heinkel grumbled, "Vhat happens if you're attacked? Ve can't help you!"

"You're forgetting exactly what I'm capable of," Yumie said indignantly. Heinkel rolled her eyes, "No, I'm remembering _exactly_ vhat you're capable of, Yumie. You have little to no control. Ve can't have you causing a scene,"

"If I don't go, who will? You're too recognizable!"

"_Und _you're too excitable!"

"Come on, you two," Marcus said, stepping in, "Fighting isn't going to solve anything,"

"No," Yumie agreed, "But it's a damn good way to relieve stress,"

Marcus slapped a hand across his eyes and groaned.

After a minor meltdown over Yumie's rather complicated plan, Heinkel finally talked her out of sneaking in through the ventilation system and into simply walking in with a group of tourists. Heinkel had a miniature two-way receiver she'd stolen before they left and fixed one to the inside of Yumie's jacket.

"Don't talk to us through it," she warned, "Just listen to vhat I tell you,"

"Right," Yumie replied.

They made their way back into the heart of the city, hiding behind a stack of crates and waiting for a large group of people to pass their way. Finally, a large tour group of about a dozen came into view. Heinkel nodded to Yumie and gave her a gentle shove out into the open. Yumie stumbled a bit, her hat flopping over her eyes as she fell into alignment. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice that they'd picked up a straggler. Yumie gave Heinkel a discreet thumbs up before shoving her hands into her pockets and continuing forward. Heinkel ducked back into the alley, raising the earpiece up and listening through it.

"Hear anything?" one of the recruits, David, asked. Heinkel held up a hand, indicating silence. So far, there was nothing but static.

It was a good twenty minutes before they finally caught something. It was the sound of a voice, but it wasn't Yumie's: _"Alicia? Alicia? Excuse me, but my daughter is missing. She has short blackish hair and blue eyes, about four feet tall...uh..."_

Heinkel frowned. A child went missing? She hoped that it wasn't anything serious. She heard people scuffling around inside the building, but not a word from Yumie, as she expected. As long as the earpiece was working and there weren't any suspicious noises or loud sounds, she knew Yumie was okay.

_"Ma'am, I'm afraid that there aren't any children here,"_ said a kindly, elderly voice Heinkel recognized as one of the sisters of the previous Iscariot Organization. Heinkel assumed that she'd either been usurped under Maxwell's orders or she'd willingly joined the new ranks in order to bide her time, like so many of the others had.

_"But she came in here with me. She must have wandered off. Please, you have to help me find her," _

_ "I assure you, ma'am, we're doing everything we can. Please, come with me. We'll take care of you until your daughter is found. Now then..."_

The voices faded away as they either left or Yumie and the group moved on without them. It grew quiet again except the static and the shuffling of Yumie's jacket. Heinkel listened intently, ignoring insistent pleas for information from Marcus. She waved him off irritably.

Another twenty minutes passed before Heinkel picked up something interesting. She heard Yumie squeak suddenly as new voices emerged in the background. Her blood ran cold as she recognized them.

"It's him," she muttered.

_"So tell me, how is the new recruit faring?" _she heard Maxwell ask. She heard another man's voice, one she didn't recognize.

_"Bet-t-er t-than we'd h-h-hoped. S-s-she's already u-und-der," _the new man stammered.

_"Excellent. Make sure she stays quiet. We can't alert the entire city to this, you know. Not yet, anyway." _

_ "I-If you d-d-don't mind my a-asking, j-j-just what a-a-are you plan-ning with a-a-all of t-this?" _

_ "Never you mind. I've already spoken with the Pope. He's still mulling it over, but we should have a definite answer soon. After all, complete overthrow is tricky business. Now then, have you found any leads—hey! What are you doing, boy?"_

Heinkel gasped sharply as Maxwell's voice grew angry. She shook it off, "Yumie! Run!" she hissed. She knew that no matter how well Yumie was disguised, Maxwell would still recognize her up close. Fortunately, the sword-wielder was very fast. She heard immense static all of a sudden and Maxwell yelling for her to stop. Heinkel stood up and turned to the others, "Ve have to go, now!" she barked, "Yumie vill meet us back at the ruins. Go!"

They took off down the alley, as far away from the Vatican as they could go. Heinkel scowled to herself as she ran, pondering Maxwell's words, 'complete overthrow'. Overthrow of what, exactly? The way he was talking, it sounded big.

She just hoped she could contact Anderson with this latest development. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to be happy when he learned that they'd used Yumie as bait.

/ooo/

Anderson was sitting in his room deep within the Hellsing manor, thinking about the past few weeks, when he heard it. A loud thump, a yell and the sound of something falling heavily to the floor: "_Ow! Damn it, who the hell left this box right in the middle of the freaking hallway!_" He heard Wynter snap angrily. He took a wild guess that she was back from her impromptu trip.

He heard a door opening down the hall, _"Eep, sorry, Wynter, I was helping Walter move some things and forgot it out there. Are you all right?" _Seras called.

_ "Other than the concussion and the sprained ankle, doing great!" _Wynter growled.

Anderson stood up and moved toward the door, opening it and stepping out. Seras and Wynter both looked up, Wynter sitting on the floor up against the wall beside the large box on the floor.

"Hey," she said, "Did we wake you?"

"Ah was'nae asleep," he said plainly.

"That's fine, then," Wynter answered, getting to her feet and shoving the box off to the side, "What's in that thing anyway?" she asked Seras. The Draculina shrugged, "I don't know. Walter just told me to move them down to the third floor sub-levels. I just forgot there was still this one, left," she said. Wynter sighed, "Okay then, I'll help," she said, lifting the box up effortlessly. Seras gaped in shock, "But that thing's heavy! Even I was having trouble with it," she exclaimed. Wynter eyed the box skeptically, "Huh. It feels light to me," she said, "Maybe you're just pathetic," she joked. Seras whined, "You're as mean as master is," she grumbled.

"Go figure, I'm the apple that didn't fall far from the tree, after all," Wynter called back as she headed deeper into the sub-levels. She started humming _Fur Elise_ as she went, the sound echoing back across the walls long after she disappeared into the gloom.

"She gets weirder and weirder with each day," Seras muttered, heading off in the opposite direction. Anderson watched her go, strangely apprehensive. He glanced back down the hallway Wynter had disappeared in and sighed.

"Ah'm bored," he grumbled.

/ooo/

"Damn, I don't see why I'm the one who has to do this. Couldn't you have asked someone else?" Wynter grumbled as she messed with her hat, which refused to sit right atop her head.

"Yer the only one in this bloody place Ah trust enough tae keep quiet," Anderson grumbled at her.

He'd wanted to go into town to buy some books to pass the time. Until they discovered A, what Maxwell was planning and B, a way to defeat the twins, there was nothing much for him to do and he spent most of his time resisting the urge to pick a fight with one of the vampires, namely Alucard. Wynter seemed to sense this, fortunately. She walked beside him on the street, reading a text on her cell phone. She sighed, "Well, at least she cared enough to keep me informed," she grumbled.

"What?"

"My adopted son, you might call him, got into the flour bags at the new bakery, covered himself in it and went about scaring any human children who dared wander too far behind the counter. Now she's got him locked in the attic. I guess he's showing me how mad he is right now for leaving him behind,"

"He's no' yer real child," Anderson pointed out. Wynter sighed, "Of course he isn't. Vampires are incapable of physical change; it's impossible for him to be my real son. Besides, do I look old enough to to have a kid to you?" she snapped. She froze with a strange look on her face, realizing she'd just zinged herself. Anderson smirked, "Faurgot aboout the age paradox, did ye?" he sneered. Wynter punched him on the shoulder, making him stumble back.

They went without speaking for a short while longer, Wynter busily sending a reply to Marjorie and Anderson lost in his own thoughts. He was so absorbed, in fact that he didn't notice she was talking to him until she'd repeated what she said, twice. He blinked and glanced over at her curiously, "What?"

"I asked what you were thinking about. You look dazed. You know, I'm actually starting to worry about you a little bit. You're always out of it. Are you sleeping okay?"

He sighed heavily, "Ye'd dae well tae mind yer oon business, vampire," he grumbled.

"But since I'm the only one at Hellsing who actually enjoys your company, _much less _tolerates you, your welfare _is_ my business," she said simply. He rolled his eyes.

"Has it slipped yer mind that Ah'm the one who's going tae end yer life in the near future?" he asked.

"Heaven forbid," Wynter answered, "That will be an epic battle and I look forward to it. I am, after all, the white Saxon dragon, whereas you are the red Welsh dragon, so to speak. However, in this case, there is a faint chance that the white dragon may overcome the red dragon,"

"What in the world are ye talking aboout?" Anderson asked.

"You've never heard the legend of the two dragons? Well, in Arthurian legend, there is a tale of a castle where King Vortigern lives. Every night, his castle shakes and trembles, as though an earthquake has struck. It's destroyed multiple times and then rebuilt, only to meet disaster once again. The king consults a boy who would later become Merlin. The boy tells the king that there are two dragons trapped beneath the castle's foundations, locked in an eternal battle for dominion. The king breaks through the ground, freeing the dragons and their struggle drags on above ground until finally, the red dragon defeats the white dragon. This story also acts as a prophecy depicting the eventual arrival of Arthur, who ultimately proves victorious over the Saxons,"

Anderson just stared at her, "Sae then ye're comparing us tae that old legend?"

She smiled cheerfully, "That's right," she chimed. Humming, she continued down the sidewalk, leaving him to stare after her in bewilderment.

Downtown London was as bustling and noisy as ever. Anderson was suspicious that he might stand out, but Wynter only laughed, "Come on, seriously, if Maxwell knew you were here, he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of asking us where you were. For that matter, he wouldn't have called Giuseppe off either,"

Anderson scowled, "Ah'm aware o' that," he said, "It just gets mah temper flared up,"

"Why? Because Giuseppe almost killed me?"

"Aye. Ah'll be the one tae kill ye, doon't faurget," he growled.

"Yeah, yeah. Lets' just find the bookstore already. I might get something myself while we're out. So then, what do you like reading?"

"It doesn't matter what ye read, sae loong as ye're exercising yer mind," he answered.

"Hm, I see. So you'll read just about anything,"

"Aye," he answered, " 'Faur Ah came here, Ah was reading ae book on agriculture,"

"You're very knowledgeable, aren't you?" Wynter said. He glanced at her strangely, but didn't respond. She chuckled, "So that's what those kids meant when they said you knew everything,"

"Ah heard,"

Wynter's face turned dark, "Oh, I see, you were watching that whole time were you? Tell me, why did you just let them irritate me like that when you know what I was capable of?"

"Are ye aware o' how bad ye are at bluffing?"

Wynter groaned and looked away, "Fine, you win this round, Mad Priest,"

He lashed out and grabbed the collar of her shawl, shoving her against the wall of a nearby building, "Ah told ye tae quit calling meh that!" he hissed.

"Since it fits, I'm afraid I can't comply," Wynter said calmly, "Now would you please let me go? People are starting to stare,"

He released her roughly and stepped back, ignoring the curious glances of the people around them. Wynter followed suit, falling into step beside him again, "You're really touchy, you know that?" she muttered.

"Watch it,"

"I'm serious. You need to watch that. Normally, priests aren't supposed to have hair-trigger tempers. But then again, you're not exactly what I'd call 'normal' either,"

"Ah hate tae imagine what ye consider 'normal'," he grumbled.

Wynter started laughing.

They managed to make it to the bookstore with little to no trouble. Once inside, they went their separate ways. Wynter normally read science fiction, her favorites being Jules Verne and Michael Crichton. Anderson located the nonfiction shelves and quietly perused the spines of the various books. This was actually a rather impressive supply, much more diverse than the small corner bookstore he usually visited back home. It was the only one in the general area, so it couldn't be helped. He took down a thick book talking about the rise and fall of the Ottoman empire. This should make for interesting reading. He scanned the shelves again and took down another book dictating historical figures and events of Italy. He opened it up, browsing through its pages and effectively disappearing from reality just for a few seconds. However, when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he reacted automatically, lashing to the right and hurling the person into the other bookshelf, whipping a bayonet from his coat and jabbing the edge of the blade against their throat while pinning them against the bookshelf almost all in one move. But as the situation sank in, he realized that luck was apparently with him. It occurred to him what he'd just about done and he supposed he should be thankful that it was only Wynter he'd attacked and not an ordinary human. Otherwise, he'd have been in _big_ trouble. Wynter glowered up at him, straining her neck away from the sharp blade, "Okay, I'm guessing you don't like to be disturbed when you're reading," she choked.

"Uh...sorry aboot that," he said, stepping back and storing the bayonet away in his coat. Wynter slumped forward limply, "Jeez, you scared the daylights out of me, you moron," she snapped, "What if I'd been someone else, huh?"

"Fortunately, ye weren't," he said. Wynter just shook her head, "Remember when I said you were touchy? I take it back; you're just plain nuts,"

"Ah doon't recommend sneaking up on meh like that," he growled.

"Who's sneaking? I finished looking, saw you over here and even called your name and you didn't answer. So what happens when I try to get your attention? I nearly get my head sliced off!" she exclaimed.

"Ah apologized, right?" he said, picking up his books and moving out of the aisle. Wynter rolled her eyes, hurried after him and grabbed his arm, "That's not the point. Are you always that scatterbrained when someone startles you?"

"Nae, just where ye're concerned," he said simply. He pulled away and Wynter stared after him, working out what he'd just said. She got the distinct feeling that he was messing with her. Shaking her head, she hurried after him and scowled, "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Ye're much easier tae deal with than yer master, vampire, and ae little more than half as irritating," he told her. Wynter frowned in indignation and stepped in his path, looking him dead in the eye, "Listen here, Anderson, you'd better not underestimate me or you will live to regret it," she hissed, "I may appear weak, but don't you dare take me lightly,"

Anderson stared down at her hard, slightly surprised. That other Draculina had been right; Wynter did often act childish and carefree, but it was quite clear that she was anything but. She was right, however. She did appear to be nothing more than a defenseless human girl, being rather petite as it was and a head shorter than him, but he could see in her eyes that she meant business. He occasionally forgot that she was at least a hundred years of age.

Wynter whirled and stalked off toward the exit to pay for her books, her long black hair billowing behind her. He watched her go, feeling strangely unsettled for some reason. Just what was going on? Why was he anxious all of a sudden? He shook his head and sighed. Maybe he was coming down with something. England's muggy weather could do that, after all.

Wynter paid for her book and went outside to wait. Something weird was going on. She could sense that something was changing. Was she getting a premonition of events to come? Perhaps a battle in the near future? No, that wasn't it. Usually when that happened, her skin started to crawl with anticipation. This time was different. She frowned concernedly. Something about this was familiar. But what? She sighed and ruffled her wings in agitation. She turned her gaze to the sky, allowing her thoughts to muddle and wander until she heard the door opening again and glanced over. He stood there carrying the books in a paper bag, looking over at her from the corner of his eye. All of a sudden, something about this almost felt kind of... shady.

"So," Wynter said, breaking the silence, "Ready to go?"

He just nodded in response.

The walk back was relatively quiet. Something about the atmosphere had changed drastically. Wynter shielded her eyes and peered up at the sky, frowning, "It looks like rain," she stated.

" 'Tis no' unusual faur London," Anderson replied. Wynter rolled her eyes, "I'm just trying to start a conversation," she said.

"Ae bit o' ae limited medium tae start ae conversation with," he remarked, glancing at her.

Wynter sighed, "Never mind," she gumbled.

She stopped suddenly, blinking a few times and then raising her hand up to her right eye. She groaned, "Oh come on, not again," she grumbled.

"What?" he asked.

"My eyes are going out on me again," Wynter said, "Everything's starting to get a little hazy,"

"Can ye see?"

"I do better flying. I use the prevailing wind direction to tell me where I'm going, but on the ground, it's not as easy. It'll clear up in a minute,"

He frowned and glanced around, turning back to her and grabbed her arm, "Come on, there's ae bench o'er here," he said, pulling her to the edge of the sidewalk. Wynter, too bewildered to even protest, just allowed him to do this and then sat down when she found the bench, sitting back with an irritated sigh, "I hate this; it's so inconvenient," she grumbled.

She heard him sit down on the other side and open the paper bag, taking out one of the books, "Hoo long does it generally last? What causes it?" he asked.

"Anywhere from five to ten or fifteen minutes at most. See, my eyes are actually dying during this process, so my regenerative abilities are restoring them. Depending on how quickly my body reacts decides how long it takes," Wynter replied, "But I don't really understand why you care,"

"Ah doon't," he answered stiffly. Wynter shook her head as the blackness finally settled in on her line of vision. She rubbed her eyes as though trying to dispel it.

"Tell meh, why does that happen tae ye?" he asked.

"You remember Arakawa. Her ancestor had me captured and I endured twenty-four years of torture at his hands and the hands of his staff. They tested all kinds of various concoctions and mixtures of things on me. You know, there are three human drugs out there that exist because of me, though I don't know which ones,"

"What?"

"You know that label that says 'Not tested on animals'?" Wynter asked, "Yeah, that's what it means for that particular company, at least that's how I view it. The drug that causes me to go blind is now a powerful pain killer, I believe. I spoke with master and he theorized that in a few decades to a hundred years, it'll eventually clear out of my system,"

Anderson didn't reply. He just opened the new book, but didn't read it. He just stared off into space, occasionally glancing at her as she stared unseeingly into the sky. She was waiting for it to pass.

"Hey," she said, "Why do you hunt vampires?"

He frowned, looking back over at her in confusion, "That's rather obvious," he said, "Vampires are unholy instruments o' the devil. They doon't belong here,"

"Is that what you really think? I pity you," she said with a sigh.

"What?" he snapped. She turned to look at him, her eyes eerily dull. It was now fairly obvious that she was blind from how she didn't focus, "Even the devil was loved by God at some point, Anderson." she said cryptically. She then leaned back and closed her eyes. Anderson just stared at her in bewilderment. What was that supposed to mean, he wondered? He hummed and stared down at the street, waiting.

It was a short while later that Wynter got to her feet and stretched, "Well, that takes care of that," she said, glancing over at him. Her eyes were no longer dull and dead-looking. Now, they had a glassy sheen to them, as if they'd been replaced entirely. He stood up and proceeded forward down the pathway back the way they'd originally been headed. Wynter fell in step beside him, arms folded beneath her shawl, "Thank you for waiting with me, but you needn't have gone to the trouble. Hellsing isn't far from here; you could have made it back on your own,"

"Ah wasn't aboot tae take the chance," he answered. This time, it was he who was being cryptic. Wynter had no idea what he was talking about, but he knew that with Giuseppe and Mireille prowling the countryside looking for him and anyone else non-Catholic, there was always the chance they'd run into one or both of them. He knew he could at least fend them off, but he wasn't sure about Wynter. After all, he knew that after all the times he'd tried to kill her, he was the one who held that right, alone. He wasn't about to let anyone else take it from him.

"You're a bit weird, aren't you?" Wynter said. Anderson glanced at her strangely, but didn't say anything. Wynter just shrugged.

/ooo/

A resounding knock at the door alerted Integra to a presence out in the hallway. She looked up, frowning, "Who is it?"

"_Sir Integra,_" Walter called, opening the door. He came inside, carrying a few papers, "I have a report from Mr. Burns at the Vatican,"

"Let me see it," Integra said as Walter approached the desk. Walter handed her the report and she scanned through it. He watched her face for the inevitable change in expression, even through her stony outlook. Her eyes went wide and she drew a quick, sharp breath, "Is this true? Are you positive?" she exclaimed suddenly.

"I'm afraid so," Walter said, "Mr. Burns was able to confirm it with photographic evidence. The pictures will be processed and sent here in secret in three days' time," he told her. Integra turned her gaze back to the reports, "But if this is true, then..." she trailed off, chewing her lip in frustration, "My God, is he...? Walter, Where are Alucard and Seras?"

"I believe they're both down in their chambers in the sub-levels," Walter answered.

"And what of Wynter and Anderson?"

"From what I understand, they went into town about two hours ago,"

"Get Alucard and Seras up here now, Walter. I need to speak with them right away,"

A little bewildered, Walter nodded and bowed, turning to leave the room.

Integra sat back down and folded her hands beneath her chin, glaring into space. She ground her teeth together angrily, "Damn," she hissed, "Maxwell, you've gone too far. But then...this is strange, even for you. What on earth is going on in that head of yours?"

/ooo/

Wynter and Anderson returned just in time to catch Walter as he was returning from the sub-levels with Alucard and Seras. He spotted them in the hallway and flagged them down, "Ah, you two, please follow me. We have news from the Vatican and Sir Integra wishes to speak to you right away," he said.

Wynter frowned. She and Anderson exchanged wary glances and followed him up to the second floor.

Integra was waiting for all of them when they arrived, standing at the window with her arms folded behind her, her silhouette framed by the sinking sun over the horizon streaming through the window.

"Ma'am," Walter greeted. He brought the four of them inside and moved to stand beside her desk, watching as she sat back down and fixed them all with a grave stare, "All right," she began, "It's been six days since we discovered that something is amiss within the Vatican. I know the four of you have been awaiting any sort of development without results. Until now, that is,"

Only Seras seemed to be getting nervous. Being the least experienced person in the room, Integra couldn't really blame her. She picked up the small bundle of reports and held it aloft, "This is a message from our Vatican intelligence officer," she explained, knowing full well he'd have to be removed from his position after this announcement, "It explains a rough outline of a string of strange disappearances within the Vatican's walls. Over the past two days, a total of five children have gone missing from tour groups who enter the building. They are Daniel Bates, Jakob Gibbons, Kelly Marker, Jessica Farthing, and Alicia Davis. The local authorities are conducting an investigation into what they believe is a child predator stalking the inner halls of the Vatican, posing as an ordinary tourist or employee. However, according to information given us by Mr. Burns, we know better,"

Anderson felt his blood run cold and he started to shake with rage, "Are ye saying what Ah think ye are?" he said.

"Very likely, Anderson," Integra answered, "If you and I are under the same opinion in that these children have entered into the same states of mind as Giuseppe and Mireille, then yes, what I'm saying is exactly what you were thinking,"

"Oh no," Wynter whispered, "Then this could mean that he's perfected the process, couldn't it?"

Anderson whirled to her in alarm and then glared back at Integra, "Is there anything else?"

"Only the same information that he seems to be planning an overthrow. From that, nothing else," Integra answered coolly.

Anderson sighed, his shoulders sagging, "Ah see. Well, if ye'll excuse meh," he said quietly, turning and leaving the room.

"Uh...," Wynter muttered, watching him go and then turning to the others. She shrugged and shook her head slowly. Integra hummed, "In any case, it now seems we have a bit of a dilemma on our hands. Giuseppe was difficult enough to fight as it was. It seems his sister is able to control others during a battle to prevent their interference,"

"Yes," Alucard added in, "It's quite an interesting ability. A rather weird experience, I must say,"

"Don't act so impressed, Alucard," Integra admonished, "We'll continue to gather information on this. For now, there's nothing more we can do on the matter,"

Wynter sighed, "Okay, then. Does Sasha know about this?" she asked.

"I'm afraid Ms. Pevensy has suddenly taken ill," Walter said concernedly, "She's resting in her room at the moment,"

"Is she okay? What happened?" Wynter exclaimed in alarm. Walter chuckled, "It's just a little bug, Wynter," he said, "Please don't worry. I've already sent for some medicine and you can visit her later once it's passed,"

Wynter relaxed slightly, "All right," she said. She left the room then, feeling worry for Sasha, but also a foreboding that she couldn't seem to shake off.

"Wynter! Wait!" Seras called. Wynter paused and turned around as her sister hurried up beside her, "So, things are starting to get a little hectic, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Wynter replied, " But I can't help but feel a bit anxious. Ever since my defeat to Giuseppe at the gallery and my odd reaction to a man I'd never even met prior to that, I've been feeling a little out of sorts as of late,"

"What do you mean? What happened exactly?" Seras asked as they walked down the hallway. Wynter shook her head, "I don't know. When I heard Maxwell's voice, I got the distinct feeling that I knew him, even though I'd never seen him before. When I laid eyes on him, my head started to hurt and I felt dizzy. But it's nothing serious, I'm sure. Anyway, I just wish I knew what was going on,"

"Yeah. You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually kind of feel sorry for Anderson. He seemed pretty upset,"

"Yeah, you're right. I really don't think he's doing well here. He's been, I don't know, almost jumpy. Today, I startled him downtown and he about took my head off,"

Seras blanched and recoiled, "Glad it was you and not me," she said wearily.

"That's not very nice,"

"No, no, I mean that if he _had_ cut your head off, you'd just regenerate," Seras said.

"In the middle of the bookstore?"

Seras started laughing hysterically and very soon, its contagious effects spread to Wynter as well. Soon, both sisters were in stitches, barely on their feet. Seras actually fell to her knees as she laughed so hard, "Wynter, you're one of a kind," she exclaimed.

"You're one to talk!" Wynter laughed. She sighed, "But in the meantime, I should probably go and see Sasha. I'm a little worried,"

"All right," Seras said, "See you later, then,"

Wynter made her way up to Sasha's room, following her faint scent through the hallways since she didn't actually know where it was. She finally found her room, pausing outside the door and knocking softly. She heard a hoarse voice call out, "_Come in,_"

Wynter glided through the door, rather than open it. Lying beneath the covers on the bed, Sasha gasped and started to shake in fear before realizing who it was. She smiled weakly and sniffed, "Hey, Wyn," she said, "Long time no see,"

"Hey," Wynter said gently, "I heard you're not feeling well,"

Sasha coughed, "It's just a flu," she said, "I'm fine. In fact, I feel like going and doing a little shooting practice. Want to go along?" she asked, sitting up and starting to push back the covers. Wynter grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back down, pulling the covers up beneath Sasha's chin and sitting down beside her, "You're not going anywhere, Sasha," she said sternly.

"But Wynter, there's so much I still have to do. I promised Captain Copperfield I'd help him with the rounds, today, and then there's a couple of new recruits I offered some personal training to," she muttered.

"In the shape you're in, you'd only be a hindrance," Wynter said bemusedly.

"Damn, you sound just like my mother," Sasha grumbled playfully. She sighed, "Walter told me you went downtown earlier when he brought me some tea,"

"Yeah, Anderson wanted to buy a couple of books to pass the time and I had to go with him,"

Sasha's eyes widened in alarm, "Anderson?" she exclaimed, "Ugh, he didn't hurt you did he?"

"No, it was fine. In fact, he helped me a little. My eyes went dead, again," she said irritably.

"So what happened?"

"He took me to a place where I could sit and wait for my vision to clear. He even waited with me, reading until it did," she said.

Sasha stared in stoic disbelief, "Okay, who the hell was he and what has he done with the real Paladin Anderson?" she demanded.

Wynter just laughed. 

/ooo/

Wynter assured Sasha she'd check in on her in the morning before going to sleep herself. She left her friend to get some rest and made her way through the darkening hallways, feeling the familiar alertness taking over her body with the setting of the sun. Her eyes took on an eerie glow as the low light permeated her vision. She could feel her thirst creeping up on her, but pushed it back, remembering her reasons for not drinking. She ruffled her wings and sighed, "I guess I'll go and brush my feathers down," she said to herself, "Not like I've got anything better to do, anyway.

/ooo/

Edmond felt his heart racing in fear and anticipation as he fixed the final sensor to the last child's forehead. The five children lay completely unconscious upon stainless steel work tables far beneath the Vatican's halls, but Edmond felt as though the entire structure were caving in on him. He was about to do the unthinkable, once again. He had no choice; Maxwell had ordered him to. The man had even posted Giuseppe as a guard to make sure Edmond did his job.

He glanced up at the albino child standing motionless by the door, his blank blue-grayish eyes staring emptily ahead. Edmond frowned, "S-So are y-y-you g-going t-t-to watch me t-this whole t-t-time?" he stammered irritably.

The boy didn't reply. But then, Edmond hadn't really expected him to. Giuseppe had virtually no will of his own. Unless ordered by Maxwell to speak, it was likely that he wouldn't. Edmond couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for what he was doing. These were innocent children, after all. Maxwell had done extensive research on all of them and knew each one intimately. He'd guaranteed a success rate for each one provided Edmond did his job correctly. Soon, Giuseppe and Mireille would be only small parts of an even greater army that Maxwell was slowly building.

But at what cost, Edmond wondered?

He was jarred from his thoughts when the monitor began screaming, the heart rate of the girl called Alicia beginning to slip drastically into a downward spiral. Edmond whirled and immediately registered her vitals, reaching around for an IV and then fumbling for her left hand. But her wrist was so tiny, he could barely find a vein through which to insert the IV. His fingers trembled violently and with every millisecond that passed, Alicia's life slipped away. Edmond bit his lip and finally found a vein to attach the lifesaving IV to. However, not even milliseconds before he succeeded, Alicia's heart fell still, the steady beeping from the monitor turning into a solid, shrill chime to match the flat line on the monitor.

Edmond,s jaw shook, his hands trembling at her side. Swallowing, her shakily reached for the white sheet covering her and gently pulled it up and over her face, covering it.

There were only four left, now.

A/N: I've been working on the three part epilogue to this story and except for the entire thing getting deleted by accident, it's going great. -_-; I'm currently rewriting it. First Anderson's accent was driving me out of my mind, now I get to struggle with Heinkel's speech impairment from the last volume! Will it never end? Drop me a review if you like. Reviews keep me motivated, be they good or bad.


	18. Seventeen

A/N: **Holey moley on a sourdough rolley! –Ginji Amano, **_**GetBackers**_

Hehe, MarzBarz will probably get a kick out of that quote, but it's the first thing that came to mind when I saw how many pages this chapter encompassed! Twenty-seven! That's right! 27 big ones! But this chapter is a little more focus on character and relationship development than anything else. Honestly, it's hard trying to balance all that stuff out. MarBarz has been busy and has finally returned, so I'm going to update more slowly to give her time to catch up.

Seventeen

It was late in the day when they were called in. Wynter had just woken up from a deep sleep when she got the call. Walter came to fetch her, as a phone system hadn't been installed in her room due to her prolonged absences. She yawned as she followed him back through the passages, "I was having the nicest dream about the waves beating against the pilings in Bristol," she said.

"I take it you're rather fond of that place, then," Walter suggested.

"Quite fond of it, actually. Living there has made me begin to doubt my wanderlust. I may actually settle down at long last, if only for a few hundred years or so,"

"Bristol is quite a lovely town," Walter agreed, "I lived there for about two years when I was a youth, before I joined Hellsing full-time. I'm afraid I never went back, however,"

"How long have you been a part of Hellsing, anyway?"

"Since I was twelve years old," he said proudly, "It was a close acquaintance who taught me the use of the garrote wire and my experience in weaponry I learned through years of practice,"

Wynter hummed, "Typical garrote users don't operate the way you do, Walter. I must admit, I've never seen one used like that before,"

"I strove to stand out,"

"So I see,"

They found Sir Integra in her office, looking over a small stack of papers and photographs. When Wynter saw the grotesque images portrayed in the shots, she immediately became apprehensive. Had Giuseppe and Mireille struck again?

Integra looked up at their arrival, her face strangely calm.

"Good evening," she said, "Walter, thank you for going to get her,"

"Of course, miss," Walter said with a light bow, moving off to stand a few feet away from her desk. Integra glanced at Wynter, "Now then, to the business at hand. You might be relieved to know that this is simply a routine extermination, Wynter,"

"So the Vatican isn't involved this time," Wynter said with clear relief in her voice.

"That's correct. It's a double-attack, one in Leeds, to which I've already sent Alucard and Seras, and one in Southampton. I selected the closer one for you because I have an extra request, Wynter,"

"And what's that?"

"Lately, it's been quite apparent that both Alucard and Anderson are getting edgy. Given their hatred for the other one, it's clear that a skirmish is imminent. For this job, I'd like it if you would have Anderson accompany you,"

"What good will that do?"

"It'll give him something to reduce the constant tension of the temptation to pick a fight with either you or Alucard. Since you're the only one who can reasonably tolerate him, I figured it best to request this of you,"

"Sure, I don't mind. Although I can't be certain what he'll think of this," she said.

However, when she was sent down to ask him, Wynter felt strangely confident of his answer. After all, just like her, he'd been stuck here for days without much else to do but read and revisit old memories. Of course, of the latter, she had a great deal more than he, but it didn't matter as much. For him, some memories might be more precious than others. Thinking about it made her slightly envious, realizing he probably had memories of friends and people he cared for, whereas she only had places and things, a very lonely store in her opinion.

She stopped outside the door and knocked twice.

"_It's unlocked,_" he called somewhat absently. Upon opening the door, she saw why. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with the larger of the two books he'd bought open halfway through. Wynter had to admit, she was surprised; he'd only bought that thing a short time ago.

He glanced up and finally seemed to register she was standing there, "What dae ye want?"

"How do you feel about going on a job with me?" she asked.

"Ae job?"

"Yeah. This one's just a plain, normal, routine maintenance job for Hellsing. It's in Southampton and should only take an hour or two to get there,"

"What kind o' job?"

Wynter smiled slyly, "It's right up your alley, of course, Mad Priest," she replied. Anderson regarded her blankly for a few moments and then grinned, "Well, when ye put it that way, ye might have caught mah attention, vampire,"

"I thought so," Wynter said smugly, "After all, like I said before, I know you well enough. Lets' go, then. Integra wants this thing dealt with within the day,"

"Wait," he said, "Lets' make one thing clear; Ah doon't work faur Hellsing and Ah never plan tae,"

"I know," Wynter said, deciding to go along with Integra's suggestion herself, "But you've been stuck here for over a week now and I'm sure you're itching to tear something apart. So before you decide to pick a fight with my master or me, I figured maybe you'd like to come along. Besides, from what I understand, Integra is sending out informants to gather information on Maxwell's scheme, so we'd only be hindrances right now. Best to put our talents where they'd be of greater use,"

"Ye may have ae point,"

"Of course I do. I pride myself on my wisdom," she said, leaving the room, "Don't forget how much longer than you I've had this life,"

"Yer deid, vampire," he pointed out, "Ye doon't 'live' anymore; ye're frozen,"

Wynter paused in the hallway, realizing he was right. So what if she was a hundred and fifty-three, almost fifty-four years old? Her body was frozen in that of a nineteen, almost twenty year-old's, while her mind was that of a wizened, aged adult.

"Yeah," she said quietly, not looking back at him, "I am...dead, aren't I? How strange; I never really noticed it before now,"

She continued forward slowly, the spring gone from her step all of a sudden. Watching her go, Anderson frowned. Had he said something to upset her? Well, whatever it was, he certainly hadn't intended to offend her.

He shook his head, pushing that thought from his mind. What did he care? The important thing was that he now had something to do. Killing a vampire would relieve the pent-up tension he'd been dealing with over the past week, knowing that his greatest rivals were so incredibly close, but that he couldn't do a thing about it. It was enough to drive him mad.

/ooo/

Wynter was forced to dress up in her cloak and pull the shawl over her head, taking on a rather poor guise of a traveling nun. She was somewhat displeased with it, but both Integra and Anderson had recommended it. Since Anderson was clearly a priest and Wynter looked a little bit frightening to begin with, the possibility of weird rumors circulating was very real. They had to take a train to get there in the allotted time period. This is what caused Wynter's problems.

Getting to the station and on board the train hadn't been a big deal and Wynter opted to remove the shawl from her head once they took their seats, "This thing wasn't designed to be a hood, you know," she growled, glaring at the paladin sitting beside her.

"Would ye rather cause ae stir?"

Wynter sighed and leaned her arm on the window ledge, resting her chin on her upraised hand, "No, I suppose not," she mumbled, "But still, humans are increasingly odd. I don't understand their reasoning at all,"

"It's rather hard tae believe ye were ever human tae begin with," he said.

"Yeah, people keep telling me that," Wynter said wryly, "But I'm assuming you believe the same of all vampires,"

He smirked, "Ye're finally gettin' the idea," he said.

"Oh come on, it's so obvious. I don't know what kind of bad experience you had with vampires, but there's a reason behind your hatred,"

He frowned suspiciously, "And what's tae say Ah had ae bad experience?" he snapped.

"Nothing. But hatred doesn't just appear; it's got to stem from somewhere. Sometimes it starts out as unrequited love, or a simple dislike of a person, or even a wretched situation that can repeat itself over and over again. Hatred is a strong and powerful emotion, Anderson. Unlike disliking something, hatred has to come from somewhere or something. It doesn't just appear out of thin air, not true hatred, anyway,"

She resumed her position against the window and closed her eyes. Anderson just sat quietly, watching her. She had a point, though he was loathe to admit it. His hatred for vampires ran deep, but only because...well, because he _had _in fact had a bad experience, a very, _very_ bad experience with vampires. Even now, his blood still ran ice cold at the simple memory of it. His heart would begin to race in fear and every event played out before his eyes. Screams of dying humans echoed faintly, but he shook his head and felt something snag his sleeve. He glanced over at her curiously. She was staring up at him with concern on her face, "Is something wrong? You seemed to get very anxious all of a sudden," she said.

"Nae, Ah'm fine," he answered.

"You're lying," she said knowingly as she resumed her previous position, closing her eyes and drifting off once again.

"Sae what if Ah am?" he grumbled, if only to get the last word in. She smirked and chuckled, but decided to let him win this round. She could always get him back another day.

The entire train ride was quiet and uneventful. In fact, they'd barely exchanged any words by the time they arrived. Wynter seemingly forgot to pull her shawl back over head, not for Southampton peoples' convenience, but for the London people riding the train with them. Just before she started to leave their car, Anderson reached out and grabbed the back of the shawl, yanking it up over her head once again. She snarled and whirled, scowling at him almost childishly, "Come on, seriously, no one is going to notice!" she hissed.

"Best no' tae take ae chance, vampire," he replied.

"Ugh," she moaned, "If I _had_ to take a disguise, why couldn't I pose as your sister or something? It worked with Alucard,"

"Ye doon't look old enough; Ah'm ae bit older than ye are,"

"Excuse me! I may be frozen in time, Anderson, but I was only a month away from twenty when I was turned back _in the late 1800's!_" she hissed with emphasis.

"Aye, but ye look aboout sixteen, maybe seventeen,"

Wynter was so stunned that she walked right into the door leading into the next car with a resounding thud. Anderson glanced over at her in bewilderment and sighed, "Ah woon't say anything this time aroound," he muttered.

"Thank you," Wynter grumbled, her pride severely dented.

After a mild meltdown on the way out over Wynter's pathetic disguise, they reached a compromise; once they got out of the immediate town area, she could pull her shawl down, but she'd have to put it back when they had to leave.

According to the information Integra had given her, Wynter said that their target was a loud, obnoxious vampire targeting families swimming down by the water. His supposed hiding place was an old, abandoned summer dwelling resting on the edge of a small cliff. It was slated to be torn down, but Integra had gotten wind of its current usage and knew that the vampire in question wouldn't hesitate to strike down an entire, ignorant, innocent construction team. She'd managed to delay the operation by four days, enough time to get rid of the pest and get her agents out of there before any of the workers began to suspect anything was wrong.

"If I were alone, I could fly there easily," Wynter said, "So we'll probably have to take the bus,"

"Fine," he answered simply. He didn't care either way; he was just anxious to get there. It had been a long time since he'd done any kind of hunting. This would be a highly enjoyable experience. He just hoped Wynter didn't get in the way. Not that he was concerned about her safety all that much, he just didn't want to accidentally kill her in the process when he could easily drag her death out as long as he wanted. He glanced over at her as she checked the bus schedule at a nearby stop outside the train station. Yes, he told himself, that's all. That's all that was going on. Whatever this uneasiness he'd been experiencing was, it was all just anticipation to kill her at long last. That was it. Nothing else. Just that.

"Okay," Wynter said, turning back around and jarring him from his thoughts, "The next bus should be here in about ten minutes or so, so we got really lucky,"

"Hm," he replied.

There was nothing much to do other than wait. Fortunately, the bus was ahead of schedule, arriving just a few minutes following this and Wynter used some of the money given her by Integra for the fare. The bus driver seemed a bit surprised at their given destination.

"That place has been deserted well over three or four years, now," he said as he pulled away from the curb, "That family lost all their money during an economical dip and moved north to escape it. Tell me, what would a pretty lady like yourself be going down there for, huh? He asked.

Anderson frowned, suddenly tense for some reason. But before he could even think of an answer as to why they'd be heading down there, Wynter spoke up; "It so happens that the church is planning to build a chapel in place of the old manor," she explained, "Father Anderson and myself have been assigned to go and ascertain its possible value. If it passes, we'll return with the information within the day,"

"Oh," said the driver, " I see, so you _are _a nun, then,"

He seemed downcast and Wynter bowed her head to hide her smirk, "Not true, my good man. I am but a simple girl. However, my unshaken faith in the Lord our God has enlightened my spirit that I may aspire to one day reach that goal,"

"That's quite a bold proclamation, there," the driver said bemusedly. Anderson just glared at her out of the corner of his eye. How could she blatantly lie like that? Wynter noticed and threw him a sidelong glance. She was trying to tell him something, but whatever it was, he couldn't see. He just muttered something unintelligible and faced forward.

They reached the place within a half an hour and got off the bus, the driver wishing them well before speeding away. Wynter had barely lowered her shawl when she was suddenly yanked to the side and shoved up roughly against a nearby tree trunk. Agitated, she glowered directly into his eyes as he scowled down at her, still clutching her neck tightly. Had she been human, she'd have probably been strangled. She just counted herself lucky he hadn't drawn any of the bayonets.

"What the hell dae ye think yer doin'!" he snapped.

"Depends. Define that, please," she choked out, barely able to draw the air she needed in order to speak and reflexively clawing at his hand. His grip only tightened, "Doon't play daft, vampire! Hoo dare ye use the Lord's name tae extend yer oon lies!"

Wynter chuckled dryly, "There you go, jumping to conclusions yet again, Anderson. Really, you should try looking at it from a different angle,"

"And what's that mean?"

"Whoever said I was lying?"

_Now_ he let her go, so great was his surprise that he didn't really notice as he stared at her in disbelief. Wynter took a few steps away and unfurled her wings, "I'll be right back," she said. A tremendous gust of wind ripped through and she took to the skies in an instant, wheeling about erratically as she scanned the terrain. He watched her blankly, waiting until she touched back again a few minutes later. She folded her wings back down and approached, "It's just down this road," she said, pointing off to the left, "The path is a bit overgrown, but it's useable. No wonder no one has discovered his location until now,"

True to her word, about forty meters down the road from the bus stop was an old, cracked asphalt pathway leading into the trees. Weeds grew up through faults in the foundation and shrubs hung over both sides, nearly obscuring it to the eye. Wynter glanced at Anderson, "Well, are you ready for a little hunting?" she asked rhetorically.

Rather than answer, he procured two bayonets, his eyes narrowing. Wynter turned back around, ruffling her wings. She frowned and hummed. He glanced curiously at her, "What?"

"I'm sensing more than one," she replied, "Or I might be mistaking the ghouls for vampiric creatures,"

"Well, that's great," he grumbled. He swept past her, proceeding straight toward the old manor. Wynter followed briskly, "Wow, you don't even take time to sneak up on them," she pointed out.

"What's the point?" he asked.

Wynter just smirked and unfolded her wings, "Since I'd like to do something too, how about letting me have the ghouls?" she asked, "I can certainly sense plenty of them,"

"Much obliged, vampire. Ah was worried Ah'd have tae convince ye,"

"Really now, how dim-witted do you think I am? I've had enough life experience for three vampires twice my age. Besides, this one has already long since sensed our presence, Anderson,"

"Ah'm aware o' that,"

"Good. Then you should know we're already surrounded beyond all escape?"

_That_ he hadn't known. However, not two seconds later, it became apparent that she was correct as the forest around them suddenly erupted in sharp trampling of vegetation and a few dozen humanoid ghouls suddenly stumbled out of the foliage, groaning and hobbling awkwardly toward them. Wynter sighed, "I'm wondering if I didn't get the sour deal," she complained, "These things are pathetic,"

"Then ye'll have nae trouble with 'em," Anderson said, taking off down the path and leaving her there. Wynter scowled, "You jerk!" she screamed after him, whirling to strike down the first ghoul that reached her with a single swipe of her arm. In truth, while these ghouls were pathetic, it meant that the vampire in question was attempting to preserve his power. It was very likely that he was a strong vampire with little faith in his own skills, a rather weird combination, but deadly nonetheless. With this in mind, she reached into her shawl and pulled the Jackal II out, aiming once and firing off two shots, splitting two of the ghouls' heads clean in half. She darted past them and further down the path, feeling that prickling sensation of another vampire's presence close by. His anxiety was peaking; he must have run into Anderson. As she ran, she continued to fire back behind her, flawlessly striking down each ghoul as they blindly pursued her until finally, she ran out of both bullets and targets.

She arrived in the overgrown front lawn, looking up over the decrepit old manor. It was in ruins, tattered at the seams with broken windows and chipped, faded paint, clearly abandoned.

The perfect home for a rogue vampire.

"Eagh!"

Wynter turned sharply at the sudden scream echoing across the grounds. It was unfamiliar, so the vampire had to have run into Anderson. Wynter almost pitied the poor creature. She could feel his presence fleeing along the western edge. She could also see that the cliff edge ended very close the house. She assumed it was clay underneath being eroded away by the salt air and wind. She hurried to the other side, preparing to ambush the vampire as he attempted to flee.

However, the minute she came around the corner, she saw that she'd made a grave miscalculation.

The vampire was right in front of her, just beyond the edge of the manor. He whirled at her approach, lashed out and snatched her arm, dragging her close and holding her tightly against him as Anderson appeared around the other side of the structure.

"Hold it!" the monster snapped, "One more step and she dies! I'll bite her right now!"

Wynter and Anderson were both a little surprised, to say the least; this idiot thought she was human!

However, Anderson didn't hesitate. He just calmly continued forward, bayonets held limply at his sides. The creature holding Wynter faltered, backing up nervously, still clutching her against him, "H-Hey, didn't you hear me?" he called, "I'll bite her!"

"Gae right aehead," Anderson told him nonchalantly. The vampire made a choked noise of shock, "I'm not bluffing, you idiot!" he yelled, "I'll do it, watch!"

He was desperate. He opened his mouth, lowering his head to Wynter's neck. He hesitated, glaring up at Anderson for a response. Ordinarily, Anderson might have reacted, since he wanted to be the one to kill her himself. But he knew she was only playing along; this creature was no threat.

The vampire snarled suddenly and braced. However, before he could even attempt to sink his fangs into her throat, Wynter suddenly lunged backward, using her own momentum to attempt to throw him off of her. He yelled in shock, hurling his arm out as it morphed into a weak-looking shadow matter as his other hand still clung on tightly to Wynter. Anderson realized with a jolt that Wynter's action had sent them into a tumble toward the edge of the cliff. The vampire's shadow matter coiled outward frantically, searching for something grab onto. As they disappeared over the side, it snaked around Anderson's arm and he had only a moment for it to register as he was suddenly dragged forward and sent flying over the edge as well.

Then, everything blackened.

/ooo/

_"Anderson! Wake up! Hey! Anderson! Anderson! Come on, wake up!" _

He could hear a voice. It sounded familiar. Everything was black. He could somehow tell he wasn't dead. That fall had really knocked him for a loop. It had to have about twenty or twenty-five feet, maybe more, which is kind of bad if you're human. Fortunately, he could regenerate, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

_"Anderson! Wake up! Come on, answer me!" _

He groaned, moving his head to the side and blearily opening his eyes, looking around blankly. Everything was a little fuzzy. He could hear the sound of the waves beating on the shore somewhere. Right in front of him, he saw nothing but black. It moved: "Anderson! Thank God, you had me worried! Are you okay?"

He shook his head as his vision cleared. The black object turned out to be Wynter sitting beside him, staring down at him concernedly, "How are you feeling? That was quite a fall,"

"Ugh," he groaned, sitting up painfully and rubbing his neck, "Ah'm sore, but nothin's broken," he answered, "Where'd that vampire git tae?"

"I've already killed him and dumped his ashes in the ocean," Wynter replied, "Now settle down," she added when his expression darkened severely, "That was over an hour ago. You landed kind of hard. I've been trying to wake you up for a long time, now, once I realized you were still alive,"

"Ah'm surprised ye waited," he said irritably.

"Oh come on, like I was seriously going to just leave you unconscious here. I didn't have much of a choice. Unfortunately, the good news is over," Wynter said grimly, "I have some bad news, now,"

"What?"

"Take a look around you,"

He did so, shifting his gaze all around them and ascertaining their position. They'd landed on a rocky little outlet of the cliff above. It stretched about ten feet in both directions. But right then, he saw their problem; they were stranded. The water bashed viciously against all but the north side to which the islet connected to the cliff base. About fifteen feet to the right was a decrepit old wooden staircase that wound up the side of the cliff to the top. But the water had swarmed over the pathway leading to it, making it impossible to cross over to it while the tide was in.

"I tried to get over there," Wynter said, as if reading his thoughts, "But as you well know, no matter how skilled I am, I can't cross running water. And flying upwards is out of the question because the cliff juts out a ways and places me over the water, paralyzing me and sending me tumbling back down. Perhaps you could find a way, but until the tide flows back out, _I'm_ stuck,"

Anderson got to his feet, somewhat shaky from the fall. He inspected the water carefully, judging it to be about seven or eight feet deep, shallow enough to cross. He bent down and picked up a large stone, tossing it up once, catching it and then hurling it in an arc into the deepest part of the water. It fell in with a heavy splash and he waited until the swell flowed out and the water became clear for only a moment. He caught sight of the stone and chose to stay with his predictions of seven feet. However, he had to account for the current, which seemed powerful enough to drag him out to sea and while he was loathe to admit it, he wasn't a very skilled swimmer.

She was right; they were both stuck for the time being.

Wynter sighed and sat down a few feet away, folding her wings around her, "Well, this is irritating," she said, "At least we got rid of that vampire. Yeesh, what a creep," she said with evident disgust. Anderson decided to ignore that.

"Hoo long dae ye think we'll be stuck here?" he asked instead. His phone's face had gotten cracked in the fall and he assumed there was some internal damage to it. Even if there weren't, he doubted he could get a signal all the way out here anyway. He had a backup phone back at Hellsing that he'd left behind, assuming this simple mission deemed it useless. Damn, what a string of rotten luck; he couldn't even tell what time it was.

"Probably an hour or two at the most," Wynter said, "We've already been down here an hour and you were unconscious for the better part of it, so I'd estimate another hour or so before the tide goes down to the point that we can both cross over to those stairs,"

They fell silent. Neither was really sure why, but all of a sudden, the situation had gotten somewhat awkward. Doing his best to ignore it, he sat down a few feet away from her, staring out at the water irritably.

Wynter glanced up, watching the gulls soaring overhead. She sighed wistfully, "Lucky," she muttered.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing," Wynter said quickly, "Nothing,"

"Ah thought ye said—,"

"—No, I said nothing,"

Silence again. Still awkward, but both, while not really understanding why, chose to ignore it. Wynter shuddered her wings again and pulled her hair slightly over her face. Anderson glanced at her strangely, "What the...?"

"I may be a day-walker, but I still get sick if exposed for too long. One of the reasons I don't cut my hair, even though it'd be easier, is because its length and color protect me," Wynter explained.

"That ae fact," he muttered. Wynter nodded, "Yeah,"

"Ye knoo, ye'd probably look ae bit older if ye cut it,"

"Oh shut up,"

What a weird turn of events this turned out to be. Stranded by the tide with her greatest enemy. If there was a God up there, he was laughing at her, and him too, apparently. But then, Wynter figured, she did kind of enjoy his company, even though his goal in life was to kill her, so it seemed.

"Hey," she said, "I'm curious; why do you hate vampires so much? Just what happened to cause you to despise us like this?"

He just glared at her and she expected him to snap that it was none of her business. But surprisingly, he didn't. In fact, he looked more like he was tempted to talk about it. She wondered if anyone knew, actually, just what it was that drove him. If he refused to talk about it, she assumed that, like most humans, he'd inevitably want to and just be done with it, take a bit of the weight off his shoulders. Perhaps now was one of those times.

He turned away and sighed heavily, "Listen," he said, "If Ah tell ye, ye're no' tae repeat it tae ae single creature,"

"You _can_ trust me, you know," she said. His eyes just narrowed.

A few minutes passed. Wynter waited patiently, waiting to see whether or not he'd really tell her. He seemed to be either making up his mind or gathering his thoughts.

"Ah was'nae always ae member o' Iscariot, ye knoo," he said at last.

"I kind of figured that," Wynter said, "So before then, what did you used to do?"

"Ah was ae part o' the military," he replied, "But Ah'm no' prood 'o this. Back then, Ah'm ashamed tae say Ah dinnae believe in God ae bit. Ah doon't knoo mah reason faur fighting, anymore. Ah was ae part o' ae faction sent tae Romania tae eliminate ae terrorist group. At the time, it seemed like ae simple enough job,"

"I'm assuming it wasn't," Wynter said quietly.

"Aye," he muttered, "Ye're correct. The humans were nae problem. The vampire they had wi' them, he was aenother story. He took us by surprise. Mah entire squad was butchered. In some miracle, Ah managed tae survive, only tae gae face tae face wi' him. Ah'd read enough aboot vampires tae knoo what became o' ae human bitten. Ah wanted tae die ae human,"

He paused, the memory clearly still gnawing at him. Wynter hummed, "You tried to take your own life?" she ventured.

"Aye. Ah grabbed faur mah gun and bit the barrel o' mah oon will, firing off ae single shot. After that, Ah doon't remember much o' what happened. Ah suppose the barrel was at ae bad angle and missed anythin' vital. Ah was still aelive, but barely. When Ah woke, Ah was in ae hospital somewhere in Rome. Ah was met by Iscariot. They explained mah situation, that Ah had been foond by their scouts in Romania well o'er two months prior,"

"Two months?" Wynter exclaimed.

"Aye. Ah'd been taken back, barely clingin' tae life. Ah doon't quite knoo the process, but Ah was transformed intae God's divine weapon. When Ah awoke," he said, staring down at his hand, "This is what Ah'd become. They told meh that it was the oonly way tae save mah life. Ah'd become ae pioneer in anti-vampire technology. Ah was tae kill vampires and heathens in the name o' God, whose divine knooledge saved mah life. O' course, learning tae control mah new abilities took ae few years, as well as the accidental destruction o' ae few various things, " he said with a dry chuckle. He grew serious again, "But God gave meh ae second chance Ah did'nae deserve. Sae noo, any vampire unlucky enough tae meet meh is cut doown,"

"Except one," Wynter said, "You've had many chances to kill me,"

"Aye," he said irritably, "But Ah cannae bring mahself to kill ye—yet. Noo then, Ah told ye mah little secret. Ah want tae knoo why ye chose tae become ae vampire,"

"I suppose that's fair," Wynter agreed, "The problem is that all of my memories of being human are gone, Anderson. But I'll tell you what I know. From what I understand, everything started with the vampire who was my dear friend, Louis Von Brunswick,"

"Him?"

"Yes. He had been deeply in love with me for many years, but I'd always been of frail health and spent most of my childhood bedridden with vicious fevers, or so he told me. He said that while I pulled through, my body was still weak and by the time I was soon to turn twenty, it was likely that I would not outlast the year. By this time, I was engaged to be married. I think his name was Jean Mondago, but I can't be sure. My real betrothed had died,"

"Ah," Anderson muttered, "Ah see. Ye'd been set tae be married by yer parents,"

"Yeah, that's how it worked back then. Marriages were arranged in the upper class for money, power, and honor. Louis told me that my fiance had been violent toward me when we were alone and so was glad he perished when I was sixteen. Keep in mind I'm quoting all this," she added.

"Aye,"

"In any case, no one seemed to approve of my engagement to Jean, including Louis, who knew there was only one way to save me from dying from an illness nobody could understand, nor cure. He wanted to ask to marry me and then turn me himself, but he was too late. I suppose the rejection must have driven him insane, so he slaughtered my entire family, save my elder brother, and myself and for the longest time, I believed Helene to be dead, as well,"

"Ah'd heard," Anderson said, "Yer family was quite well knoown,"

"Really?"

"Aye. The Du Beaumont family was highly respected. Yer brother was studying tae become ae diplomat, hooever it seems his plans changed and he became ae doctor, instead,"

"I see. It explains why he survived. From what I know now, his descendants are living somewhere in northern Italy. I don't contact them, but I do keep tabs on them. Knowing me would just complicate their lives, so I leave them alone except to check in on the little ones from time to time. I have to be a good aunt, after all," she said in a mocking wise tone. She sighed, " I have to be careful. I know for a fact that a couple of portraits done of me and my family still survive in the modern world. But to answer your original question, I chose to become a vampire purely out of revenge. In the end, I didn't even remember what I wanted revenge for. I could barely remember my name,"

"Genevieve," he said absently.

"Yeah, although I do find it a little creepy that you know so much about who I used to be," she said ruefully, "Anyway, even though I would have died in the coming future, I sometimes regret asking to be changed. Even so, this world is amazing. In a hundred years, humanity has gone from horse-drawn carriages to flight and space travel. It's truly astounding to watch them and the only thing that keeps me from going insane is the prospect of further spectating of the human ways,"

"Insane?"

"Humans aren't designed to live forever; nothing is. This is why the prospect of semi-immortality is kind of frightening. And also...eh, never mind,"

"What?"

"Nothing,"

"What is it?" he pried. Wynter looked away, "It's also, well, lonely. A complete vampire is a naturally solitary creature. When you run across the ones like Alucard and Seras, you may as well have seen Haley's comet twice, which is nearly impossible for humans. Very few vampires mingle with other vampires. Alucard seems to be the exception and I'd like to believe that this fact about us can be changed, what with the cabal and all. Heck, if Tobias were still around, I have a hunch he'd still be with me,"

"Who's Tobias?" Anderson asked. The name sounded familiar. Maybe she'd mentioned him before. Wynter smiled fondly, gazing up at the sky, "What a fool he was, honestly. He could find the good points in Jack The Ripper for crying out loud," she said wryly, "He was my first and only fledgling. I created him when I was twenty-four years old. He freed me from that awful prison Takeshi Arakawa held me in. He thought I was a human girl, but I proved him wrong soon after. He was clearly terrified of me, but he stood up to me, actually forcing me to back down. I...I was really fond of him," she said wistfully, "He was the only person to ever treat me like he would anyone else. To him, I was more than just a monster; I was a living being. But, a few weeks after he freed me, he found out I was searching for Alucard again and wanted me to turn him so he could help me. I told him not to think so stupidly, but he said that all he wanted was to stay with me, to keep me from being lonely. Selfish as this is, I obliged. The thought of never having to be alone again appealed to me. However, he was killed that same night. And that was that," she said simply, "Besides, after a hundred and fifty-three years of it, being alone isn't so bad anymore,"

"Sae then what aboot yer friend?" he asked, "Sasha?"

Here, Wynter froze up a bit and seemed to shrink in on herself. Anderson frowned, "Ye mentioned she chose tae follow ye,"

"Yes," she said hesitantly, "She did,"

"Ah want tae knoo hoo ye met her. Ah must admit, Ah'm curious. In mah line o' work, Ah doon't meet many humans tha' are too fond o' vampires, much less willing tae travel with 'em," he said. To Wynter's surprise, he really did sound simply curious. Wynter didn't need to ask why; the answer was obvious. A human willingly choosing to follow a vampire, yet remain human was unheard of, if not unheard of, then extremely unusual. She sighed and gazed out toward the sea.

"About five months ago, I returned to Japan for a short rest," she said, "I visited the ruins of the villa Tobias once lived in. It was there that I was cornered in my sleep,"

_Wynter first heard the footsteps while she slept, immediately awakening, but her eyes remaining shut. She knew she'd been followed by many people, but was unable to place how many there were exactly. She'd allowed her guard to slip when she was sure that they would proceed no further. Sitting against a fallen support beam inside,, Wynter listened as the footsteps stopped many hundreds of feet away, and then as a single set of footsteps began making their way into the ruins. She knew it was a sorry group of leftovers from the agency, people so dedicated to Arakawa that they'd continue to do her bidding, even after she'd been arrested and taken away. Wynter sighed and waited, resting her head against the cracked and shattered wood. _

_ The footsteps paused just behind the ruined wall. Wynter heard the clicking of a gun. She heard the human jump out, aiming the gun at her, "All right! I want your hands where I can see 'em, vampire!" _

_ Well, this was different. Wynter opened her eyes a tad, causing the hunter, a young girl, to flinch in alarm, but resume her braced position, her body still shaking, "Don't move!" she hissed. _

_ Wynter didn't care to move. She was exhausted, but still curious. This girl was unusual. She was clearly young, maybe only seventeen or eighteen, nineteen at most. Her long black hair was tied back in a severe braid, her wire-framed glasses cracked on one lens. She was wiry and thin, with a slightly pale and gaunt face, clearly struggling in life. Her hands shook as she held the gun. _

_ Wynter raised her head and the girl fired off a single shot. It struck Wynter dead in the right eye, knocking her back slightly, the blood pouring freely from her wound. _

_ "I said not to move!" the girl hissed. But Wynter just raised her hand, covering her eye as her body expelled the lead slug and it clattered to the floor, her eye regenerating in seconds. She got to her feet, watching as the girl's eyes widened in alarm and she fired again. This time, there was a dull _clack_ sound and she flinched with a squeak, glancing down at the gun and the bullet jammed inside. _

_ "Oh no," she groaned, shaking the gun futilely, "Not now, don't jam on me now! Ah!" she squeaked as Wynter slowly drifted toward her, her face blank of all expression. Before the girl could react, Wynter reached out and gently took the gun from her, examining it carefully. The bullet casing hadn't completely been expelled and was lodged between the slide and the barrel. Wynter had to admit, this was an unusual way for a gun to jam. She figured it was custom made. She grasped the casing and wrenched it free, tossing it aside and pulling the slide to load another shell. She then handed the weapon over to the girl, "There you go," she said quietly, "It shouldn't jam again," _

_ She turned and went back over to the beam, sitting down with a sigh. The girl, now more confused than afraid, just watched her quietly for a few moments. _

_ "Hey," she said, "Aren't you going to fight me?" _

_ "What for?" _

_ "Uh," the girl answered, unsure, "Because...well, because I'm a vampire hunter! I attack and kill your kind! Do you know how many others of your type I've killed!" _

_ "I don't really care about them," Wynter answered plainly, "They were too showy, and so they got themselves done in by a wretch like you," _

_ "Wretch!" _

_ "Yes, that's it. You're quite young and unskilled. I'm sure you must have had help," Wynter said, "But that doesn't matter. How many people did you bring with you?" _

_ "Uh...twenty," the girl replied, "We're here to kill you, you demon," _

_ Wynter grinned, "I'm so bored. I'd enjoy seeing you try," she taunted. _

_ "F-Fine," the girl snapped, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small radio. But she didn't press the call button. She just stared straight into Wynter's unflinching eyes, "How come you don't fight back?" she asked. _

_ "Because I came here for rest," Wynter answered, "And because I can tell that you don't want to fight, if you ever did to begin with," _

_ The girl faltered back, an expression of pain crossing her face, "But...if I don't, then—"_

_ However, she had no time to finish the sentence. A tremendous explosion ripped across the earth before them, shattering the barely standing ruins and quickly threatening to bury them. Wynter leaped to her feet, unfurling her wings and darting forward to shield the human as the crumbling ceiling and walls came crashing down around them in a cloud of dust and debris. _

_ Wynter heard them approaching as she used her powerful wings to heave the cracked and broken piece of wall and ceiling off of them, hurling it aside and sitting up, gazing down at the girl as she came to. She gasped sharply and reached in vain for her gun as they were surrounded. _

_ "That's enough," a man's gruff voice barked from somewhere around them. Wynter's wings shuddered violently and she barely cast a second glance at the girl as she was hauled roughly to her feet, her hands bound behind her. Wynter stood up, folding her wings back as she glared at the man approaching. He looked familiar. _

_ "You're the descendant of Travis, aren't you?" she stated. The man chuckled, adjusting his glasses, "That I am, you monster. My name is William. You butchered my poor grandfather, so much so that they wouldn't even show my family his body when he was eventually brought back. I swore revenge for my poor grandfather whose father you killed," _

_ "My heart bleeds for you," Wynter grumbled wryly, "So I'm guessing you sent the girl in as bait to lure me out?" _

_ "Partially," the man said, "She was just so enthusiastic that I had to at least give her a shot. She so hates vampires, you know. However, by failing to kill you, she's betrayed us," _

_ "Boy, that's a shallow way of thinking," Wynter commented, "Betrayed you by failing to kill me?" _

_ "Of course. You, who slaughtered my ancestor and stole the freedom of our beloved leader. You, who deserves to die more than anyone. And yet she failed, as expected," _

_ The girl's head shot up, disbelieving of all she heard. So they sent her in knowing she'd fail, betray them and..._

_ "So what do you plan to do with us?" Wynter asked, interrupting her thoughts. _

_ They didn't answer. Instead, the girl was shoved roughly to the side as the men surrounded her. The girl's eyes cast wildly about, frantically. _

_ "But why?" she asked, "I joined the organization because I hate vampires, Failing to kill one vampire shouldn't make a difference, especially when I was unable to kill her anyway!" _

_ "That's not our problem," William said, "You see, now that we have legitimate reason to do so, we can tell you our real reason for wanting you dead. Simply put, you're just too good of a hunter and we don't like that," _

_ Wynter didn't know the whole story. She didn't know why the girl hated vampires and why she became a hunter. She didn't know why being a great hunter offended Arakawa's sorry survivors. She didn't even know why failing to kill a vampire was considered a betrayal. She felt like she was watching an incomplete play. _

_ The girl's eyes blazed angrily, "_I _betrayed _you_!" she exclaimed, "That's sick! I have a reason for destroying vampires! You're just doing it to be cruel!" _

_ "Just kill her already," William grumbled. The sounds of the bracing rifles echoed around them. From her place on the side, Wynter watched curiously, oblivious to the rest of the small group surrounding her, their weapons very likely comprised of silver meant to incapacitate her. She smirked, "Hey, girl," she called. _

_ The girl glanced up, her eyes flaming, "What?" she snapped. The men around them paused in curiosity as the vampire continued, "Tell me, how do you feel about this? Feel about about being taken down without a chance to fight back? Killed simply because of your skill?" _

_ The girl faltered, but she clenched her fists, "How do you think I feel? If I could, I'd tear them to pieces for daring to treat me like a kid! For daring to take advantage of me like this!"_

_ She then faced the people preparing to shoot her, "So go ahead and kill me!" she shrieked, though Wynter could see her shaking, hear the fear in her voice. She was afraid to die, but unafraid to meet her death head on. _

_ Wynter's eyes narrowed. _

_ The triggers clicked and the shots rang out within the ruined villa. _

_ The girl's eyes were squeezed shut in preparation for the barrage of bullets, but even as the shots continued to crack and blast in every direction, she didn't feel a single one hit its mark in her small body. She opened her eyes, seeing a solid black mass standing in front of her, great feathery wings shielding her from the lead storm. The vampire-girl smirked down at her, body jolting every few seconds from the momentum of the bullets. _

_ "W-What are you—" the girl stammered. _

_ "Master always used to tell me that strength in humans outmatches even our own and for me to never take for granted the declaration of a human. You've quite the strong will," Wynter said, black tendrils of shadow matter swirling and spinning around her as her body regenerated. She opened her wings with a sharp snap and a rush of feathers, her eyes flashing red, "So then, would you like to go on living?" _

_ The girl stared at her, ignoring the terrified voices of the men as they began to understand that their shots weren't felling their targets. She bit her lip and nodded, frowning. Wynter smirked, wrapping an arm around her and beating her wings viciously, lifting them into the air. Their pursuers yelled for them to come back, but Wynter just soared higher and higher, their cries dying away as her powerful wings carried them far, far off into the distance. _

_ /ooo/_

_ Wynter touched down outside of Nara, over thirty miles from the villa where she'd taken flight with the vampire-hunter. Instead of landing, however, she gently cruised about six feet off the ground, "Okay," she said to the girl, "Here's where you get off. Go and have a nice life killing vampires or whatever the hell you want to do," _

_ She grabbed her arm and dropped her from her grasp, holding her aloft above the ground rushing past them. The girl screamed and grabbed Wynter's arm, holding on as the vampire attempted to drop her. Wynter's eyes widened, "No, you idiot, stop! You're messing up my flight pattern! Agh!" she yelled as the extra added erratic weight sent her into a tumble down to the earth, sending them both sprawling on the ground. Wynter groaned and picked herself up, "Damn human," she growled, "What on earth possessed you to go and do something like that?" _

_ The girl sat up, rubbing her forehead and moaning, "I didn't want to fall, that's all. Aww, you made me tear my sweater!" she exclaimed, picking at a dirty hole in her cardigan. Wynter sighed, getting to her feet, "We weren't going that fast and you're strong; you would have been fine," she said, heading off, "See you around," _

_ The girl stared after her in amazement and then scowled, jumping up, "Wait!" _

_ Wynter didn't stop walking. The girl grumbled to herself and calmly began to follow her. _Now_ Wynter stopped, glancing back curiously, "Why are you doing that?" _

_ "Uh...well, you owe me a new cardigan, that's why," the girl said somewhat lamely. Wynter's eyes narrowed. She'd seen this before. Tobias had acted the exact same way. She wasn't sure what it was, but she had a way with humans. This strange quality about her had now worked its way into this girl's brain and there was no getting rid of it. Wynter didn't suppose she blamed her. After all, she'd been sent in as bait to kill her, unaware that they knew she'd probably be killed in the process, simply because she was skilled as a hunter. Then, she was saved by a vampire of all things and the one she'd attempted to kill no less. Wynter assumed that the girl was probably following her out of reasons bordering those events. She sighed and turned around, "What's your name?" she asked. _

_ "Uh...Sasha Pevensy," _

_ "All right then, Sasha Pevensy. You can come with me if you want to, but I'm not slowing my pace for a human," _

_ Sasha's face went bright red in anger, "And whoever said I wanted you to?" she snapped. Wynter shrugged, "Hey, don't get upset; you're only human," she said. _

_ The next thing she knew, Wynter was flat on her back on the ground, staring into the point of a jackknife Sasha had whipped out of her pocket after knocking her down and pinning her, "So I'm only human, huh?" she growled. _

_ Wynter blinked slowly, "Well, I must admit, that was impressive. It's been a while since a human took me down like that. However, I don't take back what I said. Now get off," _

_ She shoved Sasha off of her and stood up, "I don't care if you follow me, just please don't talk to me, okay?" _

_ To her surprise, Sasha actually listened and as she made her way back into town to prepare to return to the mainland, she was surprised to realize that Sasha didn't say a word the entire time, but that she could sense the girl's emotions. Wynter didn't understand it, but Sasha was suddenly feeling a range between anger, sadness and now, gratitude. Her eyes narrowed and she hummed. _

_ Perhaps this could prove interesting. _

/ooo/

"And that's it," Wynter said, "After that, we made our way out of Japan, traveling west toward England. For one reason or another, she became increasingly protective of me. I'm not really sure why. But she's a very precious person to me,"

"Sae that's why ye fought sae hard tae save her," Anderson pointed out.

"Yeah...it is,"

Wynter's story finished, they fell silent yet again. Wynter glanced over at him, and then twisted around to look at the water swarming across the rocks that led to the stairs. She faced the water again and sighed.

Anderson glanced over at her and then looked back at the rocks himself. He estimated that maybe they had a little less time to wait then originally thought. The water seemed to be receding rather quickly. Soon, it would be shallow enough for him to cross, even without waiting for it to go down.

But wait. If he did that, then Wynter would be forced to wait down there by herself for at least another hour. Would he really do that?

He shook his head angrily. What was he thinking? It didn't matter! He'd cross when he was able to and leave her to fend for herself until the water went down all the way.

A slight ruffling sound drew his attention to the right. Wynter had one of her wings unfolded, busily pulling out dead feathers. She noticed him staring and blinked, "What? It's just another thing I have to do to maintain them," she explained.

"Ah did'nae say anything,"

"You didn't have to," Wynter countered. She shook her wings out and folded them back behind her.

"Why dae ye have wings, anyway?" he asked.

"I don't know. They erupted suddenly about two months after I was turned. During a routine scan at the facility, they were discovered to be growing out of my back completely out of the blue. Within a half-hour of finding them, they tore through my skin, completely feathered and ready to fly in a couple of hours. I even developed instinctive knowledge of how to fly alongside their growth, but I didn't get to use them for a long time,"

Her wings shuddered as though to back up what she said.

They didn't speak again for a long time. All around them, the rock they were trapped on grew larger as the tide drew away from the shore. By the time Anderson looked over at the pathway again, he immediately saw that it was now shallow and safe enough to cross without getting swept away. He stood up, turning around. Wynter remained seated and he glanced back at her curiously, "Aren't ye coming?" he asked.

"I can't, not until it goes down farther," Wynter answered, "If I tried to cross now, I'd only lose my balance and fall in. From there, the current would drag me out to sea and I'd die,"

Anderson started in surprise. Of course, she was a vampire. How in the world had he forgotten that she couldn't cross running water by herself?

"Well," he said, "Ah'm goin' tae cross noo. Ye'll come up when it goes doon?"

"Yeah, in about an hour or so," Wynter answered. He might have been hearing feedback from the waves crashing against the rocks, but he was sure he'd heard a bit of...dejection in her voice. Was she upset he was leaving her by herself?

Ah, what did he care? He turned and approached the edge of the islet, staring down at the water. It was only about a half a foot deep, now, if even that. Simple enough for him to cross and not much more of a wait for her. However, she would be down here until then and once the time came, she'd have to completely ignore every instinct she had and attempt to cross what for an ordinary human is a simple stream, is a raging torrent of death to a vampire.

He carefully knelt down to get a better look at the rocks he'd be using as a foothold. They looked a bit slippery, but manageable. This would be easy. However, even as he prepared to step down, he hesitated. Staring ahead blankly, he sighed and cast a quick look back. Wynter was still sitting on her rock twenty feet away, gazing outward toward the water, a faraway glaze in her eyes.

He frowned. She'd mentioned before that she rarely left England because it was so difficult to cross the water. Even from this distance, he could see that she was nervous about crossing this pathway by herself.

Anderson grumbled to himself and stepped backward back onto the islet. He turned back around, "Hey," he called, "Come o'er here,"

Wynter glanced back at him and frowned. But she got to her feet without a word and picked her way over the rocks, watching him curiously, "Yeah, what?"

He couldn't believe he was going to offer to help her get across the path. But he was tired of waiting for the tide to go down and he knew that if she messed up and fell in, his chance of finally accomplishing that goal of killing her would slip away for good. Besides, it didn't matter that she was a vampire, a member of a race of hated beings he devoted his life to destroying, he just...well, he just didn't feel right leaving her like that.

"Listen," he said over the din of the waves, "Ah'm going tae help ye get aecross, here. But if ye even sae much as breathe ae word aboot it, Ah'll slice ye in two," he snapped.

"Uh, I wouldn't, but...why are you going to help me?"

"Because Ah'm no' waiting around faur the tide tae gae doon any more and because if ye should make ae mistake and fall in, Ah wonnae get the pleasure o' killing ye," he said.

"Well, that was rather blunt, but you have a point. So then, how do you propose the two of us getting over there with me being a vampire and highly susceptible to the water's power?"

However, she'd barely finished that sentence before he'd simply swept her off the ground into his arms and stepped down the incline onto the watery pathway. Still somewhat stunned, Wynter blinked in surprise, "Well, I guess that answers my question," she said.

"This is humiliating," Anderson growled, though he had to admit, she was extremely light and despite the level of power she possessed, she felt surprisingly fragile, almost like she could break into pieces. It was actually a little disturbing.

"Oh, don't you dare think I'm not in the same boat, here," Wynter said, her voice contradicting how frail she seemed, "Honestly, I'm a hundred and fifty -three years old and I have to be assisted across the water,"

"Ye're ae vampire," he pointed out as he picked his way along the path. Wynter glared up at him, "Thanks for pointing out the painfully obvious,"

"Hoo would ye like tae be dropped right here?"

"Fine, fine, I'll shut up,"

It was a bit slow going. The rocks were slippery and he lost his footing for a second on more than one occasion. Wynter could feel the tug of the water on her body, but it wasn't so strong that she couldn't bear it. It kind of felt like she was going to pull a muscle. She supposed she'd be paralyzed and thrown headlong into the waves if she'd tried crossing alone. But there was something else. Something familiar. Wynter frowned. Why couldn't she place it? What was so familiar about...whatever it was she was feeling?

They reached the other side with minimal trouble. He set her down and they both glanced back at the islet, judging the distance. Wynter sighed, "Well, I have to say, that was an interesting way to spend an afternoon,"

"Aye,"

They both looked at each other.

"We'll never speak of this again?"

"Ah woon't if ye woon't," he said with a shrug. Wynter smiled and shook her head, "Come on, lets' go and see if we can catch the next bus,"

Once they were both safely back at the top of the cliff, Wynter pulled her wings into her cloak and then paused. Anderson glanced at her strangely, "What's the matter?"

Wynter looked over at him, "Thanks," she said. She continued forward without looking back, leaving him to stare after her in confusion.

Later, on the train ride back, it was quiet, so he had a little time to reflect on that day. He couldn't believe he'd helped a vampire, and it had to be Wynter of all people. But then, unlike her master, she wasn't actually all that frustrating to be around. In fact, if he dared to think like this, it was actually rather...almost enjoyable to talk with her. Owing to the nature of her upbringing, she was a refined and sophisticated individual with a slight childish and cynical streak. Now it seemed that maybe he did in fact understand her a little better after today. As a vampire, she was different because she understood the human nature better than any vampire he'd ever known. This man Tobias that she'd talked about. She hadn't said it outright, but he'd gotten a strong sense that she'd had a great attachment to him. He knew better than to ask, but he couldn't help but be curious. Even after they got off the train, he was still thinking about everything that had happened that day.

"I guess it's back home, now," Wynter said suddenly. Anderson looked down at her, but didn't say anything. Wynter frowned, "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Nae, Ah'm fine. But it's really none o' yer business, vampire,"

Here, Wynter sighed heavily, "I have a name, you know. I was kind of hoping that just once in a while, you might refer to me by my given name, rather than my species classification,"

"Once we straighten oot this mess, Ah'll be aimin' tae take yer life, vampire. Yer name makes nae difference," he said, continuing forward. Wynter paused, staring at the ground.

"Well, actually, today's the anniversary of the day I was turned," Wynter said, making him stop in surprise. He stared back at her, eyes narrowed, "What?"

Wynter smiled slightly, "A hundred and fifty-four years ago today, I opened my eyes as a brand new vampire," she said, "Since I have no memories prior to this, it's kind of a special day for me and my name was the first thing I received, so I like it. But, I suppose it can't be helped. You hate all vampires, don't you?" she said.

"Ye go' that right," he said. Wynter sighed and pulled her shawl down from her head, slowly following him down the street. He glared back at her, "Lets' get moving, Wynter, Ah'd like tae make it back befaur sundoon," he called.

Wynter's head shot up in surprise and she smiled in disbelief, hurrying to catch up with him, "Right!" she replied, falling in step beside him as they made their way back through the streets of the drowsy city.

A/N: For Anderson's story, which I delved on from the T.V series where he has a flashback in episode 7, there are many fans who speculate that the vampire he met was A, Alucard and B, controlling him to kill himself. I have enough proof to dispute these claims. One, in both series and in the manga, Alucard and Anderson's dialogue clearly states that they never met previously, for Alucard would certainly have remembered Anderson, even if Anderson didn't recall Alucard. Two, Alucard likes to toy with his victims, as well as fight them at their best. This is proven in Ultimate when he expresses anger at the soldier's suicide when he's confronted by Alucard. Even if that had been Alucard in T.V series Anderson's flashback, I just don't see him trying to manipulate him. Three and finally, Anderson's will is just too strong to allow himself to be controlled. Simple as that. Just wanted to point all that out.


	19. Eighteen

A/N: God's Demonic Messenger was kind enough to point out a typical cliché I accidentally stuck in here that I'd rather not have written, so I took the liberty of changing it to make more sense. Hope this works.

Eighteen

_"I'm still waiting. Still waiting patiently, you know. I don't expect you to relate. You haven't waited as long as I have. It's okay, I understand. I'm happy you don't undergo suffering like this. However, I am quickly gaining strength and I shall soon awaken once again. But this time, I should be complete. The source of my revenge lies in your immediate world, so take great care and stand by the people you trust, as well as the people you don't. In fact, keep those people closer, for you never know where my vengeance lies. Remember my name...Bianca Kobel," _

/ooo/

Anderson opened his eyes, strangely calm after having one of those dreams yet again. Maybe he was used to it, he thought as he sat up and sighed, glancing around him. He was still in the catacombs of the Hellsing estate. He was horrified to admit that he was growing used to this place.

"Bianca Kobel," he muttered, "Sae, she's go' ae last name, huh?"

It had been two days since he and Wynter left for Southampton to destroy a troublesome vampire skulking about. Neither of them had said a word about what had happened. He was quite sure that neither of them really wanted to. However, even he couldn't blind himself to the fact that something was very different, now. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was uneasy.

"_Wynter, come on, it's serious! Please?" _

"_For the last time, no! That's humiliating! I have my pride!" _

"_Aw, please? Do it for me?" _

"_What part of 'no' don't you understand, Seras?" _

Anderson sighed. They were fighting about something or other again. He wondered what it was this time. The day before, Seras had brought home a new type of rifle and wanted to test it, even though the shooting range was closed for maintenance. So she'd asked Wynter if she'd be willing to serve as an unwitting guinea pig in its testing. Of course, Wynter adamantly refused.

_Thunk! _

"_Ouch! Seras, quit leaving your junk all through the hallway!"_

_ "Hey, that's not junk! It's mementos!" _

_ "Stuff you'll never use again, I.E, junk! Jeez, what a pack rat," _

Anderson couldn't help but chuckle a little. Wynter and Seras were sort of sisters, sharing the same sire in Alucard. He supposed that all siblings fought on occasion, no matter how close they were. He stood up and moved to the door, opening it and glancing out. Seras was standing in front of three big cardboard boxes while she and Wynter argued and they both ceased and looked up at his approach. Wynter smiled, "Evening, Anderson," she said cheerfully, "We didn't wake you, did we?"

"Nae, Ah was awake. What in the world are ye doin' noo?"

"Nothing of grave importance," Wynter chimed, "Well, I'm off for the night. I was thinking of maybe visiting Sasha for a while. Because I've been busy, I haven't seen her in a few days,"

She turned and headed off, humming to herself. Seras sighed heavily, "I don't get her at all anymore," she muttered.

"Ah ne'er really did t' begin with," Anderson said. Seras glanced up at him curiously.

"Hey," she said, "That reminds me, you two have been getting along a lot better than before. Usually, you were at each others' throats half the time. Why is that?"

Anderson started in surprise, at somewhat of a loss for words. He shrugged and looked away, "Hoo would Ah knoo that?" he asked.

"Well, I just figured you might. I was only curious," Seras said. Anderson whirled, stalking back the way he came, "Ah go' nae reason t' tell anythin' t' the likes o' ye, vampire," he snapped.

"You needn't get huffy about it," Seras grumbled. But Anderson paid her no mind, instead opting to return to the room and shutting the door behind him. Leave it to a vampire to notice what he'd been pondering over for days, no, weeks, even. He'd been extremely uneasy for a long time and every time he spoke to Wynter, it got worse. And now with Bianca's frequent appearances in his dreams, saying she would soon be ready to manifest in this world, he wasn't sure what was happening around him anymore. There had been no word from Heinkel and Yumie. There had been no new developments with Giuseppe and Mireille. From what he understood, Iscariot was probably finished. So with all of this confusing background noise, what was happening to him now?

_"Something troubles you,_"

Anderson jumped in alarm and whirled, but saw no one. Brandishing two bayonets, he backed up against the wall, scanning the room frantically, "What is it?" he mumbled.

"_Have you forgotten me already? Really now, I had thought you knew better than that," _

Anderson frowned in consternation, "Wha— Bianca?"

He jumped back when a tiny, glowing orb of light suddenly manifested itself in front of him, floating at eye level. The slightly hollow voice emanating from it chuckled lightly, "_Of course. Who else do you know who can contact you telepathically from the spirit world?_"

"Ah was no' aware ye could dae that at this time," he said, relaxing slightly.

"_I suppose I should have warned you. Please forgive the breach in etiquette,_"

"Uh, aye, it's fine," he said, "Sae then, why doon't ye appear?"

"_My power grows thanks to you, however my body is not yet complete. I estimate another day or two before I can summon a corporeal form. Until then, I thank you for your assistance," _

"And just wha' did Ah dae t' help?"

"_As I said before, your spiritual energy is incredibly strong. If my dear acquaintance had more spiritual prowess, I would have appeared to that person in your stead. However, this was sadly, not to be. By providing me with minimal spiritual energy each night, I've been able to accumulate enough power to regain the form I once employed, even though my body is long gone," _

"Sae then ye take energy from meh while Ah sleep?" Anderson exclaimed. The tiny orb hovered from side to side, "_Please forgive me once again. I only take enough to use, barely noticeable by you. This is why it's taken me so long. If I'd removed enough spiritual power all at once, I would have caused you to fall gravely ill and I didn't want that. I also removed __negative energy from my medium as needed because her inner strength far exceeds yours and a greater amount wouldn't have caused a problem. The two of you are truly a boon to me. Positive and negative energies collide to form the power I needed to revive my spirit," _

"Ah could dae wi'out yer medium, Bianca," Anderson growled. That uneasiness had begun to return again. The little orb suddenly grew brighter as Bianca began to laugh mirthfully, "_Oh, honestly, you're so stubborn, Alexander Anderson. Really, now. Are you always this way?_"

"Where Wynter is concerned, yeah," he grumbled. Bianca hummed, the little orb growing dimmer as it shimmered in the air, "_I see. So you do in fact harbor a strong connection with my medium. That's actually quite admirable. I'm very glad that you think so highly of the one being keeping me on this plane of existence," _

"Ye mus' be kidding," he said, "Ah doon't care in the slightest,"

"_Such a pity. Through my medium, I can detect strong emotions where you're concerned. Did you know? I'm assuming from your silence that you didn't. Well, it's all right. Events are soon to transpire in which you will come to understand. By tomorrow evening, I shall have gathered enough power to complete my form and appear to you for the first time. Once you see me, you should understand why I contacted you. The final battle is rapidly approaching and before the moon cycle is out, I shall have my vengeance. Please note that there is nothing you can do to stop what has been fated to happen," _

The orb began to dissipate. Anderson's eyes widened and he reflexively reached out to it, even though his hand passed through it, "Wha' dae ye mean?" he exclaimed. Bianca's voice grew faint as the orb slowly vanished, "_I mean, Alexander Anderson, that everything happens for a reason. There is no such thing as coincidence. There is only inevitability. What will happen to you and my medium cannot be stopped, nor can it be changed. You can only accept it," _

With that, the orb gave a tiny little flicker and died in midair. Anderson stared grimly at the spot it had been, his eyes narrowing.

"Everythin' happens faur ae reason," he repeated quietly, "Bianca, wha' are ye planning t' dae anyway?"

/ooo/

"What do you mean they're all dead!" Maxwell roared. Edmond cowered back, standing between two of the gurneys containing the veiled bodies of the final children, having passed on only moments before the head of the former Iscariot organization arrived. Maxwell's right eye twitched madly, so great was his fury.

"Damn it, all of the trouble we went through to obtain those children, all of the trouble His Holiness went through to cover up their disappearances, all of the effort spent on transforming them and they die!"

"I-I'm s-s-sorry, s-sir," Edmond stammered, "B-But I d-d-did my b-best. I c-c-couldn't s-save t-them. Their b-bodies j-j-just-t c-couldn't-t take the p-pressure,"

"All of the research we spent months on! Giuseppe and Mireille are powerful indeed, Edmond, but standing alone, they have no chance. Do you have any idea how grave a matter this truly is?"

Edmond's gaze flitted back and forth between the corpses and Maxwell. He'd been in the Vatican for a little over a year and understood Maxwell to some extent. But this was getting a little abnormal, even for Iscariot. The maddened gaze in Maxwell's eyes, it just wasn't normal. There was seriously something strange going on.

"Now listen here, Edmond," Maxwell hissed, leaning in dangerously close, "I want you to try again, and again, and again until you get it right! I will see to it that you have everything you need, but failure is not an option, do you understand?"

Edmond, so nervous and frazzled, was unable to manage anything other than a frantic nod of yes. Maxwell pulled away, grinning slyly, "Very good, my friend. I shall go and acquire some more guinea pigs for you to play with,"

And with that ominous statement, he whirled and stalked out of the room, leaving Edmond to count the years he'd just lost.

/ooo/

Sasha was busily training at the shooting range once it had reopened. Her skills were good, but those of the Hellsing soldiers were far superior. She'd been spending a lot of time there, hardly sleeping, barely eating, just practicing as much as humanly possible. The only thought that ran through her mind between the thunderclaps of discharging bullets was that she had to become better, skilled enough to possibly help Wynter someday. She couldn't accept that seventy per cent of her bullets hit the bulls-eye each time. So engrossed did she become in her work that she never noticed when Integra came to the shooting range after hearing she'd been there an entire day. She approached Sasha's station and leaned against the post, arms folded and watching her blankly until the girl finally removed her headphones and sighed.

"You're quite skilled, Sasha Pevensy," Integra remarked, startling Sasha badly. She jumped backward and sighed heavily, "Please don't do that, Sir Integra," she exclaimed.

"I apologize for startling you. However I do have a few inquiries, if you don't mind,"

"Okay, shoot,"

"I've heard from Mr. Copperfield that you've been here nearly nonstop ever since the range was opened again. Your log time is proof enough of his words,"

Sasha hummed and removed the empty cartridge from her gun, replacing it with a fresh one and pulling the slide to load it. She aimed at the wooden target, but didn't fire, "Yeah, you caught me," she said ruefully, "I've been here all day, every day since then. I haven't seen Wynter in a while, and I got bored,"

"That's not your only reason," Integra stated.

"Yeah, and what's it to you?" Sasha asked in rude defiance. Integra ignored it and shrugged, "Absolutely nothing. Although I have to say, you're reminding me quite a bit of how I used to be," she said cryptically. She turned and left the range without another word. Sasha stared after her, frowning.

Integra could certainly have her odd moments, couldn't she?

/ooo/

Wynter was jolted awake from a deep slumber in her coffin downstairs when her cell phone rang loudly beside her. She bolted up, smacked her head against the lid and groaned, fumbling around for it while her tired eyes struggled to open. She lifted it to her ear and shifted onto her back with a sigh, running a hand through her long hair, "Hello, this is Wynter," she mumbled sleepily.

"..._Um, hi, Wynter,_"

Now, Wynter awoke completely. She gasped, "Wha— Marjorie?" she exclaimed, "Marjorie, is that you?"

"_Yes...it is. Um...how are you, Wynter?_"

"I'm fine, Marjorie. I was taking a nap. Is something wrong?"

There was a long pause, "_...No, everything's fine. Everyone here was inquiring on your welfare. They...they were worried. I figured I'd give you a call,_"

Wynter smiled sadly, "Thank you. It's good to hear your voice," she said softly, "How's Simon? Is he handling this well?"

"_Stubborn as always, he says he wants to go see you. I can't allow that for obvious reasons,_"

"Understandable, what with where I am right now," Wynter replied, "Have there been any new developments with Leroy's group?"

"_None so far. But you know, I cannot relay much information to you. There are a couple of members who have branded you a traitor, Wynter,_"

Wynter sighed, "I know. I have betrayed no one, but I suppose that stubborn heart scales won't be swayed by petty words. How many still support us?"

"_A vast majority. There is nothing to worry about. However, I do fret over your position. That paladin may take your life at any moment,_" Marjorie said with evident distress in her voice. Wynter sighed, "Correction, Marjorie. He _will_ take my life. He's declared this to be fact more times than I care to count. He's even saved my life just to preserve his chances of taking it himself. He's serious, Marjorie. But then, so am I. If the time comes when we fight, I can honestly say I don't know what will happen. We're pretty evenly matched, so I can't predict a sure winner,"

Marjorie sighed heavily on the other end, "_I understand. Really, I do. You see Wynter, there's something I should probably tell you. The night your wings erupted again, after you fell asleep, I finished grooming your wings for you. Wynter, this was quite odd, but scattered amongst the black feathers from your wings, I found a pure, white feather. I'm not sure where it __came from other than your wings. Wynter, do you have any ideas?_"

Wynter's eyes narrowed, "No," she said after a brief pause, "I don't. But what does that have to do with my current situation?"

"_You cannot honestly tell me you haven't noticed,_" Marjorie said insistently.

"Noticed?" Wynter repeated.

"_Yes. There's something strange going on, Wynter. I don't know what it is, but it's circling about you. A few of our older members can sense it. Wynter, we're scared. What on earth is happening?_"

Wynter's eyes blazed in the darkness, "I don't know. I wish I did. Marjorie, whatever is happening, there's a strong possibility that I may not come back alive. Do you understand?"

"_Yes, I understand,_" Marjorie murmured.

"I don't mean to worry you," Wynter said as she opened the lid of the coffin and stood up, "And I promise to keep the cabal safe even from this distance. Everything's going to be fine, Marjorie. I assure you,"

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Wynter sighed, her shoulders sagging. Just what _was _going on? Why now?

She looked up as a knock sounded at her door, "Come in," she said. Walter opened the door and stepped inside, his face grim. Wynter knew then that something had just gone very wrong.

/ooo/

"You finally found out?" Wynter exclaimed to Integra once everyone had gathered in her office. Anderson, Seras, Alucard, Walter, Wynter, Sasha, and Integra, the seven people to whom this sordid event most concerned. Integra turned around, "Yes," she said stiffly, "Our officer in the Vatican has discovered the main goal behind Maxwell's actions at long last. An unknown informant leaked information to him that the five missing children had indeed been taken in order to instill the improved implants to them, the same as Giuseppe and Mireille. All five perished as a result,"

"No way," Seras breathed.

"According to our officer," Integra continued, "Non-Catholics all over the country are being killed, while Catholics themselves are being spared. I've learned that this order is being referred to as 'The Tenth Plague'. All in all, the Vatican has managed to cover up the deaths of a total of thirty-seven households in the past three days alone, with eighty-two over the last two weeks,"

"So this explains why we've heard nothing for a while," Wynter mumbled, "The Vatican was able to keep it under wraps until now,"

"Precisely," Integra answered, "This mass butchery is the main pretense behind Maxwell's so-called ultimate plan. Thankfully, we finally know what it is and can better prepare for it,"

"So what is it, then?" Alucard asked, strangely serious for once.

"Complete world holocaust," Integra answered, "Of every non-Catholic on earth. He's seeking a dictatorship in which the world will be occupied by Catholicism as the single ruling faith with the Pope serving as Lord. He's building a biologically engineered army to assist him in his mission,"

"That's...that's just insane! That would wipe out over half the world's population at least!" Seras exclaimed.

Wynter frowned, "So that's what your comrades meant by 'overthrow'. He's trying to overthrow the entire world's government. It also explains why he tried to kill you," she said to Anderson, "He knew you'd be against this and would try to stop him, so he decided to get rid of you. No wonder he's been searching you out; as long as you live, his plans are in danger of falling apart,"

Anderson didn't say anything. He just clenched his fists, staring at the ground.

"We now know, then," Alucard said suddenly, "And I have to say, it sounds exciting,"

Integra scowled, "That's just like you to find perverse humor in a situation as critical as this, Alucard," she growled, "In the meantime, we're sending you to Rome. I'm afraid we have no other choice but to nip this in the bud before it gets out—,"

"Ah'll dae it,"

Everyone turned to look curiously at Anderson, standing stock still and glaring at the floor, his eyes blazing.

"What?" Integra said.

"Ah seid tha' Ah'll dae it," Anderson said bitterly, "Ah let this get oot o' hand, sae Ah have t' deal with it,"

"Don't be absurd," Wynter snapped, "You might be the only chance we have against him and this army he's working on, but alone, you're virtually powerless,"

Anderson ignored her and stalked out of the room. Integra shook her head, "He's playing right into Maxwell's hands," she said, "I'd have thought he'd show more wisdom than this,"

"I'll go after him," Wynter said, leaving the room. Seras stared after her and then turned to look at Sasha and Alucard. For once, the Vampire King seemed less than amused.

"So," Sasha muttered, "What now?"

Integra fixed her with a deadened stare, "Now we prepare for battle," she said, those words like a death toll.

/ooo/

Wynter made her way outside, scanning the grounds carefully. Even though he was human, he could still move pretty quickly. But even then, he couldn't have gotten too far.

Right on the point, she spotted him heading toward the gates. She sighed irritably and hurried after him, unfurling her wings and beating them in the air to get ahead of him, touching down several feet away from him. She stood directly in his path, staring him down.

"You're not going," she said sternly.

"And what makes ye think Ah'll listen?" Anderson asked calmly, though the ominous tone in his voice could hardly be missed.

"Are you even stopping to think about what you want to do? If you go there, you're as good as dead!" Wynter snapped, whipping her arm out in the direction of London and the horizon beyond.

"Ah a'ready told ye, this is mah responsibility, Wynter," he said quietly. Wynter faltered slightly. He'd actually used her name. All of a sudden, she felt incredibly uneasy.

He continued forward and tried to push past her. Wynter lashed out and grabbed his arm, holding him back, "I'm not letting you go," she said firmly, "You'll be killed,"

He sighed heavily, "Ah'm the one who raised tha' daft idiot," he said, "Ah dinnae teach him t' act this way,"

"So going straight into the heart of enemy territory is going to solve things? Come on, Anderson, listen to me, there are other paths we can still try! Even if you managed to get past his people, what would you do when you reach him?"

He paused briefly and Wynter knew that he hadn't thought that far ahead yet. His anger was so great that it was causing him to become impulsive. He ground his teeth and shoved her back roughly, starting toward the gate. Wynter ran forward and blocked his path again, unfurling her wings and scattering feathers, "Listen here," she hissed, "The only way you're going to convince me to step down is to fight me right here, right now. You'd better be ready to tear my heart out this minute if you want to get past me. You got that? I know that for whatever reason, you hold back whenever you get the chance to kill me like you keep saying you want to,"

Anderson scowled, "Ye've go' nae part in this!" he yelled, "Sae get oot o' mah way!"

But Wynter didn't move. She stared him straight in the eye with unwavering intensity. It was now very clear that neither one was willing to back down. Whether it was the motivation to fight, foolish pride or something else, neither knew.

Finally, Wynter sighed, "Look," she said, "I understand how you feel. I really do. But this mindless impulsiveness isn't the right answer, Anderson. In my many years, I've suffered more than I've rejoiced. I've spent so much time in isolation that I'd almost forgotten what it was like to care about someone enough to want to help them. The last time was after Tobias freed me and treated me like a person rather than a monster. That was almost eighty years ago. He promised he wouldn't leave me behind, and then he was killed,"

"Ye told meh aboout that," Anderson said, wondering where she was going with this.

"Yeah, but I didn't tell you how he died," Wynter replied sadly, "He died defending me from a silver blade. His last words to me were how happy he was that he could finally protect me, rather than the other way around. His body turned to dust in my arms and I scattered his remains to the wind from the cliff where I turned him. I've had important people since him, mostly other vampires in the cabal. And of course, there's Sasha, too,"

"Sae what does that have t' dae with meh?" Anderson asked suspiciously.

"Are you really that dense? You—well, you're the only rival I take seriously and when we're not at each others' throats, I consider you a friend, whether you reciprocate this or not. I offered to help you because I wanted to. I want to see this end right, not with anyone's unnecessary death. Will you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"Ah cannae afford t'," he said, "Mah comrades are bein' hunted doon simply faur goin' aegainst Maxwell's schemes. Ah have t' put ae stop t' it,"

"Rushing in blindly isn't going to stop anything," Wynter protested, "If anything, it'll make things worse. I understand that you want to do everything you can to help your comrades, but being dead won't help them in the slightest! So, like I said before, if you insist on going, then draw your weapons and strike. See if you can get past me," she exclaimed, opening her wings with a sharp snap.

Suddenly, Wynter's eyes went wide and she grimaced and doubled over, clutching her stomach. Anderson stared in bewilderment as she fell limply to the ground, only to struggle to her feet seconds later. She pulled her wings in, glaring up at him, "No...no fight," she said in broken English. Anderson's eyes widened, "Bianca!" he exclaimed.

"No," she said again, "No fight."

Anderson didn't get it. Why couldn't she speak English when she took over Wynter's body?

"Bianca, wha' are ye trying t' say?" he asked.

"_La mia anima è quasi ripristinato. Se si dovesse combattere, si dovrebbe distruggere, insieme con il mio mezzo_,"

Anderson sighed heavily. She was saying that he'd decimate her nearly completed soul if he fought Wynter, destroying both of them in the process. He supposed that made sense. After all, Bianca had said that she'd finally appear in corporeal form that evening and that once he saw her, he'd supposedly understand why she contacted him. He had to admit, he was curious.

"Fine," he said, "Ah woon't fight her. Hooever, A want t' knoo why ye cannae speak English in this form,"

Bianca winced, "_Wynter mi resiste con tutte le sue forze, anche se lei non lo sa. E 'tutto quello che posso fare per parlare solo la mia lingua madre,_"

Bianca had a bit of a point in that. Wynter had no idea she was being invaded by a wandering spirit and subconsciously fought against Bianca with all she had. Therefore, as a consequence, Bianca had to struggle just to speak her mother language, much less complete English.

"Sae what noo?" he asked, relieved she could at least understand English in this form. Bianca shrugged, "_Avete intenzione di partire?_"

"Aye, if it means putting an end t' this madness," Anderson answered. "Why does it matter t' ye if Ah leave?"

"_Cosi realmente non importa?_" Bianca asked concernedly. The way she asked it made her seem older and wiser than she seemed. Anderson frowned, "What doon't Ah care aboot, exactly?"

"_Wynter è molto preoccupato, sai. Tiene sentimenti molto profondi per voi. Vuole aiutare voi,_"

Anderson's eyes widened in shock. Wynter was...worried about him? To make matters worse, she held some kind of deep feeling for him. But what exactly? That uneasiness was returning again, this time stronger than ever.

"Wha' dae ye mean, Bianca?" he demanded to know. But Bianca just sighed and closed her eyes, toppling to the right and falling heavily as Wynter finally assumed control again, banishing the spirit to the depths of her mind. She groaned and opened her eyes, sitting up with a small yawn, "Oh boy, did I fall asleep? What was I doing, again?" she asked as she looked around. She spotted him and smiled, "Oh, hey Anderson," she greeted cheerfully, "What are you doing out here? Don't tell me you want to go into town again,"

Anderson frowned suspiciously. Did she seriously not remember anything from before Bianca took over?

She stood up and flexed her wings, "Nice evening," she said, "Hey, why are we out here? I don't remember coming out here,"

Anderson wracked his mind for a quick answer, "...Actually," he said, "Ah did ask ye t' accompany meh t' town, aegain," he said somewhat lamely. For some reason, he felt the flames of battle begin to simmer down all of a sudden, his desire to return to Rome cooling for the time being.

"Oh, you wanted another book?" Wynter asked.

"Aye, Ah've a'ready finished the others," he lied.

"That was quick. I'm really not surprised, though," Wynter said, "Well, I guess I don't mind. Hm?" she said all of a sudden, glancing off toward the gate. Anderson looked up as a large, black bat suddenly swooped down out of the sky. Wynter held her hand out and it latched on with its claws, hanging upside-down stereotypically and staring up at her. Wynter tilted her head, "Oh, hey, Louis," she said, "What brings you out here?"

"What the—?" Anderson exclaimed. Wynter looked up with a bemused smile, "You remember Louis, don't you? Yeah, he can turn into a bat just like Alucard,"

A mass of black shadows swirled all around the bat's body, lifting it from Wynter's arm and into the air. It expanded in size and changed in shape until finally, the shadow matter settled and gradually dissipated, freeing the vampire into the rays of the dying sun. He raised an arm over his eyes and cringed, "Ugh, I should have waited," he muttered. He turned to Wynter and smiled with a slight bow, his wavy black hair hanging over his eyes, "Good day, Genevieve," he said.

"Hi, Louis. You remember Father Anderson?" she asked, gesturing to the priest beside her. Anderson fixed Louis with a stern glare and Louis did the same.

"Yes, I vaguely recall your face," Louis said with evident distaste in his voice, "You're the one who is apparently always trying to kill my beloved Genevieve. You do know that I won't stand for this sort of thing, right?"

"Ah doobt ye'd be much o' ae challenge," Anderson grumbled, adjusting his glasses. Wynter rolled her eyes, "If you guys start fighting, it'll force me to intervene and trust me, you don't want me to do that," she said.

"My apologies, Genevieve," Louis said, smiling, "I certainly don't want to offend you. I'm merely trying to look out for your safety. You just can't trust priests these days,"

Wynter lashed her arm out to keep Anderson from lunging at Louis. She frowned, "I'll be the judge of my own acquaintances, Louis," she growled, "You'd be wise to stay out of my business," she growled, ignoring Anderson glowering at her.

"There's no need to be so fierce with me, Genevieve," Louis said apologetically, "I'm only concerned for you,"

"There's no need to be. I'm doing just fine. Hey, Anderson," she said, glancing over at him as he stood bristling beside her. He scowled, "What?"

"Why don't we take a rain check? I have a feeling that Louis wants a word with me, seeing how he flew all the way out here,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed and he looked over at Louis standing with his hands in his pockets, watching them blankly.

"Aye," he muttered, "But if ye get int' trouble, ye'd better let meh knoo aboot it,"

"Aw, I didn't know you cared," Wynter joked. He shoved her over and stalked away, grumbling to himself. Wynter picked herself up and chuckled, "He's so touchy, isn't he?"

"How could you just let him do that?" Louis asked, staring after him in bewilderment. Wynter shrugged, "It's always like that. I'm always messing with him, so I guess he has every right to do that. It isn't like it hurt or anything," Wynter said, "Now then, what did you need to talk to me about?"

Louis smirked lightly, "You're as sharp as ever, Genevieve," he said, "It reminds me of the word games we'd play when you were a child. Similes was a favorite game of yours and you were always so good at it,"

"Really?" Wynter mumbled, eyes closed as she walked beside him.

"Yes. Come on, let me test your wit. I want to see how sharp it has become. Cold as—"

"Ice,"

"Wonderful, but that was far too easy. Dark as—"

"Pitch," Wynter answered seamlessly. Louis grinned, "Excellent! Truly delightful. But I'm still going easy on you. Cute as—"

"A button,"

"Light as—"

"A feather,"

"Flat as—"

"A pancake,"

"Huh?" Louis exclaimed, "What?"

Wynter giggled, "The definition of that one changed about forty years ago, Louis. It _used_ to be 'flat as an iron', but now it's pancake. Get with the times," she joked. Louis' face darkened and he sighed, "Oh, fine. I'll give you that one. Now then, proud as—"

"A peacock,"

"Tight as—"

"A drum,"

"Quick as—"

"A hare,"

"Sly as—"

"A fox,"

Louis sighed happily, "Genevieve, you never cease to amaze me. You even outwitted me in my own answers," he exclaimed, "I think I've fallen even more in love with you than I already was,"

"Don't get your hopes up, my friend," Wynter said, "You're the older brother I cannot recall,"

"Oh, what a depressing day this is," Louis whined. He sighed, "All right, so tell me, who have you fallen in love with in my stead?"

Wynter eyed him strangely, pausing and turning to look at him, "Uh, Louis, did you fly through any weird chemicals on your way here? I know the human world is full of them," she said.

"No, as a matter of fact, the route I took was quite scenic," he said. That sentence could have either sounded pompous, childish, or idiotic. But Louis actually made it sound serious and peaceful. He had a knack for words, that much was certain.

"So then why say that ridiculous statement out of the blue?" Wynter asked.

"Because I know you so well, Genevieve," he said, "If you'd still been human, you'd probably have started blushing. Being a vampire, it's hard for you to do that now, though," he added almost as an afterthought, "Besides, I want to know who it is. Even if I can never have you, I want to make sure that whoever succeeds would be good for you. After what I did, it's the very least I could do,"

"Well, if that ever happens, I'll be sure to let you know," Wynter said, clapping him on the shoulder, "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Oh, right," Louis said as his original reason for coming all the way to England snapped back into his brain, "I came here to tell you the results of my research,"

"Yeah? So what's the verdict?" Wynter asked.

"Well, I didn't find anything about what's happening to you, but I did discover an interesting legend. About six hundred years ago or so, give or take a decade, an ancient race of people were said to have begun to die out with the outbreak of new wars and lords,"

"Race of people? What kind of people?" Wynter asked. Louis reached out and took hold of Wynter's left wing, "Winged people," he said, "Kind of like you. They were called the Illmorein. It was said that they possessed knowledge of the earth dating back to the prehistoric ages. They were powerful and dangerous, feared by all for their might. Gradually, they were either killed off or died from climatic changes. No one knows their true fate. Ask Alucard, he was probably around to see their glory days. I'm not old enough, only three-hundred and eight. By the time I was turned, they'd long since become simply legend,"

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"Well, part of the legend states that the Illmorein sacrificed youth for longevity. They could live an incredibly long time, hundreds of years. It's whispered in some circles who still believe in them that a single member may have lived even long after her clan was decimated. Somehow, she survived and roamed the countryside, seeking others of her kind, eventually failing and somehow perishing,"

"Is that so?" Wynter said, "Are you saying you believe I am that last Illmorein?"

"No, no, of course not," Louis said, "It's just an old story I dug up. But, Genevieve, there is another reason I came out here," he said dejectedly, glancing off to the side. Wynter frowned in concern.

Across the grounds, just out of range of their senses, Anderson watched, concealed behind one of the towers. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What do you mean?" Wynter asked. Louis sighed and stared up at the sky, his eyes dim, "Genevieve," he said, "The Du Beaumont estate is gone,"

Wynter felt her breath catch in alarm, "Wha-what was that?" she exclaimed.

"Two nights ago, I was in the library reading up on this legend. I'm fairly certain that the book I was reading would have probably told me more about what you wanted to know. But I never got the chance to try. The lights went out and the door to the room was thrown open. I felt as though a great wind was crushing me. Three people entered the room, a man and two children,"

"No," Wynter breathed in horror, "Maxwell and the twins,"

"If you're familiar with them, then they must be dangerous. The man told me not to meddle any further into the affairs of Bianca, whatever that meant. Then the two children lunged at me. It was fortunate I was sitting near the window. I threw myself out and turned myself into a bat, escaping into the tree cover to hide. I watched as the house was burned to the ground. There's nothing left now but a smoldering charred foundation, Genevieve. I'm sorry,"

But Wynter wasn't listening. Her heart was pounding and she could feel her body shaking. Only one thought ran through her numbed mind; how did Maxwell know about Bianca? What was in that book that Louis had been searching through?

"Louis, quick," she said, stopping him in the middle of his sentence, "You need to tell me what that book was called, the one you were reading,"

Louis blinked in astonishment, "Uh, it was A_ History of Transylvania and Romania_, dating around 1451 or somewhere along those lines,"

Wynter's face darkened. She sighed, "Louis, I don't care what Integra says or what Master says, you're not going back to France. You're staying here where it's safe. I have to run an errand,"

And with that, she took off, leaving him there in bewildered confusion.

"Anderson?" she called upon reaching the northwest corner of the estate, "I know you're still out here,"

"Wha's the problem, noo?" Anderson snapped from his position over by the tower. Wynter hurried over, staring up at him gravely, "Are you still up for going into town?" she asked. Anderson looked at her strangely, "Aye," he said, "Wha' faur?"

Wynter's eyes went eerily glassy, "We need to find out more about Bianca," she said.

/ooo/

Wynter didn't bother to change into her street clothes. She left wearing her usual black cloak and white shawl over it. Anderson didn't quite understand what she was so anxious about and for a while, she refused to tell him what was bothering her. It wasn't until they actually got to the bookstore and Wynter headed straight for the historical section that he began to feel suspicious. She disappeared around the corner and he found her studying the online index.

"Sae dae ye mind telling meh wha' it is yer looking faur?" he asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time. Why his patience had lasted this long, he'd probably never know.

"_History of Transylvania and Romania_. It's the book Louis was reading," Wynter said, concentrating on her work. She seemed to find what she was looking for, scribbled it down on a piece of paper and then dashed off to an enclosed area in the back. Anderson just frowned and followed, more curious if anything. When he found her, she'd already gathered an armful of books, all stating the history of either Romania or Transylvania.

"There," she muttered, "That should do it,"

Anderson reached out and grabbed one of the books before she could protest. He fixed her with a stern glare, "Ah think it's aboot time ye told meh exactly wha's goin' on," he said.

Wynter felt defeated.

After she paid for three of the seven the books, they went outside and took a seat on a bench in a less crowded area where they could speak without being easily overheard. Wynter set the paper bag down beside her, staring blankly at the pavement.

"Maxwell knows about Bianca," she said, "I know that that's the name of the spirit possessing me at night. And yes, I know I'm being possessed,"

"Hoo did ye figure it oot?"

"I'm not stupid, Anderson; it's a known fact that vampires don't sleepwalk. That's an evolutionary phenomenon unique to humans alone," she said, slightly irked, " Besides, I used to meet her in my dreams,"

"Ah knoo," he said, "Ah did as well. She told meh that ye're her medium,"

"She appeared to you, too?" Wynter exclaimed, "And might there be any reason in particular that you never thought to tell me?" she snapped.

"Ah saw nae reason t'," he answered. Wynter punched him on the shoulder, "Jerk," she growled. She sighed then, "In any case, Maxwell went to France with the twins a couple of days ago and attacked Louis, driving him here. Louis said that he told him to stop meddling in Bianca's affairs. Maxwell knows about Bianca, Anderson. She seems to have more to do with this than meets the eye,"

"There's nae possible way faur him t' knoo o' her," Anderson pointed out, "Ah've reid hundreds o' books in mah lifetime while workin' there and none o' them talked aboot her. There's nae way Maxwell could'a foond oot,"

"I have to agree. She seems too obscure to be found easily. But I have a strong feeling that we need to find out who she is and why she's been possessing me. Anderson, I need you to tell me everything that's happened that you know of. I have to know,"

Anderson glanced over at her. She was staring at him expectantly, but at the same time, almost pleadingly. It was like she had to know everything at all costs. He dared to entertain the notion that she was actually scared of what was happening to her. He supposed anyone in her situation would be afraid. After all, an unknown entity invading your body while you slept; it was pretty terrifying.

"No' much," he said, "Ye doon't seem t' recall wha' ye did and ye resist her strongly enough. The last few times she took ye o'er, she kept talking aboout ae child's death,"

"A child's death?" Wynter repeated, "Has she said anything else to you? Anything?"

"One other bit," he added, "She seid she'll finally be able t' appear in ae visible form sometime this evenin'. She said Ah'll understand why she contacted meh,"

"Hm," Wynter said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. He looked over at her curiously, "Ah take it ye're no' entirely comfortable with this situation," he ventured.

"That's putting it mildly," Wynter mumbled, "I don't know why, but all of a sudden, I'm incredibly anxious. This whole business surrounding Maxwell is getting way out of hand,"

"Just remember wha' ye promised," Anderson said, "Ah want t' solve this wi'out his death if Ah can help it,"

"I know," Wynter answered, " And I'll do my best to keep my promise,"

Anderson looked over at her, that same uneasiness returning yet again. It had started to crop up more frequently these days. He had no idea why on earth he'd be uneasy, especially since there was nothing to feel that way about.

"By the way, Anderson," she said suddenly, "Did you ever decide on that debt I owe you? It's been a long time and I haven't broached the subject out of consideration for what you might think. Any thoughts on the matter?"

"Nae, no' as o' yet," he said. Actually, he'd completely forgotten about it until now. He wasn't allowed to request her life as payment, which is what he wanted anyway, so it didn't matter, unless—

He stopped, his mind taking a new, unknown pathway in another direction. Maybe there was a way...he'd have to consider it a bit further before saying anything.

Wynter watched him quietly and then closed her eyes. She knew he'd figure it out sooner or later. It was inevitable. The one thing he wanted was the one rule concerning this debt; that he couldn't ask for her life. However, if he truly wanted her life, he'd discover the loophole. It was only a matter of time.

He reached down suddenly and took the bag with the books in it. Wynter eyed him skeptically, "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Ah'll gae through these," he said, "It'll give meh somethin' t' dae anyway,"

"Well, all right, if that's what you want to do," Wynter said. She faced the street again. She seemed deep in thought, as though something were nagging at her mind.

"Hey," she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Waking up in the morning isn't a guaranteed thing, Anderson. Neither is living a full day without running even the smallest risk of injury or death. Humans and vampires alike don't notice these threats because they've grown used to them, no matter how insignificant they may seem. So answer me this; if say, tomorrow or the day after, or the day after that or so on, if you were to meet your end, untimely or otherwise, would you have any regrets?"

"Wha' kind o' question is that?"

"It's just a philosophical question," Wynter answered.

"Ye say the weirdest things," he grumbled.

"Just answer it," Wynter insisted.

He sighed, "O' course Ah'd have regrets," he said, "Ah doon't knoo anyone who wonnae have them. There are always things tha' humans want t' dae in their lives and no' enough time t' accomplish every single one. Ah'm nae exception t' this. And yer opinion?" he asked, firing the question right back at her.

Wynter hummed, gazing up at the sky, "I'd have regrets too, I suppose. For instance, if I were to die tomorrow, I'd regret not seeing the rest of this world,"

"Sure ye would,"

"I'm being serious. My dream is to visit America someday, and maybe even Australia. I want to see this fabled Sydney opera house. Being a vampire makes it difficult for me, but I have faith I'll get there at some point or another,"

"Doon't ye dare make sport o' that," Anderson snapped.

"Sport out of what? What's your problem all of a sudden?" Wynter asked, just as it hit her what was wrong. Her eyes widened and she sighed, "I get it, you think that because I'm a vampire, I don't believe in God, is that it?"

"O' course,"

"Well, for your information, I do actually believe in God, very strongly, too,"

"Liar,"

"I'm not lying, Anderson. I've suffered much at the hands of the church by people like you who believe that my status makes me an atheist. If I were able, I'd show my faith by attending mass like any other human. But for obvious reasons, that's fairly impossible, now isn't it?"

Anderson couldn't believe what he was hearing. A large part of him wanted to shout that it was all a farce, a typical vampire trick to deceive him. But a more logical side of him argued rather well that she had absolutely no reason to lie to him now, especially in daylight, her natural nemesis, and against the very man destined to take her life. Somehow, he could tell she was being truthful.

"That's no' possible," he muttered all the same, "Ye're ae vampire, ae damn monster,"

Wynter's eyes flickered, "Monster is an arguable term, Anderson. My master is a monster. Arakawa and her ancestors were monsters. Even you are a monster. I like to think of myself as an inhuman spectator to the busy and productive human lives. This bench we're sitting on, it typically goes unnoticed by the masses,"

She glanced out toward the street, "I often spend an entire day out here and not speak a word to anyone, not because I choose it that way, but because no one notices me. I am a vampire who recognizes her curse and realizes the consequences of my choice all those years ago. All of the things I missed out on, any chance at happiness I never had to begin with, all of the years spent wandering in utter loneliness, I sort through this on days like today when I have no one to speak with. The weight of our situation doesn't usually hit us for several decades, yet with everything I've been through, torture that would kill a human, I've come to realize exactly what I am and how it's affected me. Anderson, what makes you think that all vampires enjoy being what they are?"

Anderson didn't reply. He just stared at her blankly as she continued, "I am a vampire who would give everything to be a healthy human. I say it this way because I was unhealthy when turned and fated to die young. I never had any chances at happiness at all. You talk of vampirism as a curse to humanity and to all who believe in God, and in some aspects, you may be correct," she said solemnly, looking away, "But Anderson, becoming a vampire gave me the chance to truly experience life like I could never have done as a human. I gave up everything to live. I gave up a life, a family, a caring partner and possibly even my very own child just to preserve my dwindling life. God truly is cruel, but I understand that he probably has to be,"

"What?" Anderson exclaimed. Wynter turned to look up at him, "Don't you get it? God doesn't like to be, but...well, it's like being a writer, I assume. The writer essentially becomes the god of the world she's created. She gives life to her characters and presents them with existence, purpose, and a path to follow. But the story can't move forward if the characters are happy with their current lives. So the god of their world, I.e, the writer, has no choice but to be cruel and cause a catalyst or trigger to force them into their destined roles. Have you ever read a story with an unhappy ending, I mean if you read fiction at all?"

Anderson frowned in thought, "Well, nae, Ah doon't believe Ah have," he answered. Wynter nodded, "Exactly. Very few stories have unhappy endings. A story and its characters develop, no matter what the god does. The god has to be cruel to force the characters to think and evolve for themselves, growing stronger both in body and in soul. Eventually, they sort of just write themselves out. Now, the god has the luxury of being kind once again to her characters and rewarding them for their cooperation. The story draws to a close with a happy ending thanks to equal amounts of kindness and cruelty by the god of that world. The same seems to apply to God himself. He's cruel, but only because he knows it's necessary for us to learn to stand on our own two feet. He knows that by spoiling us, we'll never grow and we'll never learn. So God is a cruel, but loving Father who cares very much for all of his creations, including the vampires. After all, Satan himself was created by God and eventually rebelled against him. But even despite Satan's treachery, God must still love him. After all, Satan's still around today, isn't he?" she said with a smile. She turned and faced the street again, watching the cars go by.

Anderson just stared at her in amazement. He knew what she was, understood entirely that she was a vampire. But with every minute he spent with her it seemed, he was beginning to have doubts about every moral he'd ever lived and fought by concerning these creatures. For the first time, he was beginning to feel pulled in two directions. Just what on earth was happening to him?

"Please keep in mind that I don't wish to try to change your mind," Wynter said suddenly, "I realize that I may sound like I'm trying to convince you. Rest assured, I'm not. You are you, and that's all there is to it. My only wish is that you'll learn to see us for what we really are. We're individual beings, each with varying personalities and quirks. The population is like a field of wheat, Anderson. There are always going to be multitudes of fine, healthy stalks of wheat, golden and swaying in the sun, ready to be harvested. But just as there are good, healthy stalks, there are also always going to be the weeds, waiting to choke the new seeds and crowd the roots. That old parable for instance. " _There was once a __man who sowed good seed in his field. but while his people slept, his enemy came and sowed darnel also among the wheat, and went away. But when the blade sprang up and brought forth fruit, then the darnel appeared also. The servants of the householder came and said to him, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where did this darnel come from?'  
He said to them, 'An enemy has done this.' _

_ The servants asked him, 'Do you want us to go and gather them up?' But he said, 'No, lest perhaps while you gather up the darnel, you root up the wheat with them. __Let both grow together until the harvest, __and in the harvest time I will tell the reapers, "First, gather up the darnel, and bind them in bundles to burn them; but gather the wheat into my barn,__"_. This story loosely applies to our modern day situation, Anderson,"

"Ae vampire quoting the scriptures," Anderson said, "Ah ne'er thought Ah'd see it,"

"Well, you have to admit, for a vampire, I am rather extraordinary. But then, look who I've got for a master," Wynter joked. Anderson actually smiled and shook his head, "Ye have ae point," he said, "Ye're ae weird one, Wynter,"

They fell silent for a moment.

"I'm honored, Father Anderson," Wynter said suddenly.

"Faur what?" he asked.

"You're finally using my name," she said cheerfully.

/ooo/

That evening, Anderson waited impatiently. It was about time he found out the reason behind Bianca's appearance to him. If she was right in her declaration that she'd appear then, he knew he needed to be ready. However, his mind kept wandering back to his conversation with Wynter earlier that day. He couldn't bring himself to fully accept that slowly, very slowly, his feelings toward vampires were beginning to split. She'd said she wanted him to see vampires the same as he saw humans, that there were good and bad individuals and that he shouldn't place them all into a single sub-category of evil.

But then, he thought, his eyes narrowing, there was Wynter herself. Wynter and Alucard were two very unusual vampires who were different from any he'd ever met before. But Wynter was in a class by herself. She wasn't incredibly old like her master was, but she seemed to possess a wisdom and insight of sorts that seemed only to be found in aged vampires. Was it really because she'd suffered so much before? Anderson didn't know the full story, but he supposed that nothing deserved the kind of treatment she'd endured. This caused him to wonder yet again about this Tobias person. He'd freed Wynter from her imprisonment and she spoke of him so fondly. The fact that he'd given his life to protect her suggested that he'd clearly felt something strong for the Draculina. He'd asked to be changed so that he could keep her from being lonely in her long, long life.

Anderson shook his head angrily. What was he doing? There was no reason to dwell on these things. Wynter's time was growing shorter by the day. If he was correct in his assumptions, then there _was_ a way for him to kill her through the debt she owed him. He'd bring it up later, though. Right now, he focused on the moment at hand.

A tiny speck of light had drifted down from the ceiling and he looked up at it expectantly as it hovered in front of him.

"Sae ye came back," he said.

"_That I did. I have gathered enough power to assume my previous form. I thank you very much, Alexander Anderson,_"

"Ye seid that Ah'd understand why ye contacted meh once ye showed yerself," he said, "Ah think it's aboout time ye proved that,"

"_Of course,_" Bianca said. The light drifted back several feet and Anderson stood up, watching as it began to flicker like a sparkler, growing in size and slowly morphing into a glowing, golden humanoid shape in the air. Within seconds, it grew translucent as the gold faded, giving way to faint colors through which the wall beyond could be seen. Slowly, Bianca's form became visible, gradually increasing in appearance as the color bled into the gold light up toward her face. She was wearing what appeared to be a type of ceremonial robe complete with a dark-colored cloak and hood. Finally, the light ceased its progression when her face came into view, long, flowing hair billowing out and coming to rest behind her, nearly reaching the ground, and solid black.

However, Anderson had expected anything but this and took a step back as he stared in disbelief. Bianca looked up and smiled, "_Hello,_" she said, her voice strangely hollow, "_It's a pleasure to meet you in person,_"

"Nae," he said, "Nae way,"

But it was. There was no mistaking it.

"Wynter," he exclaimed.

A/N: It may be true; less is more. Hope this worked okay, even if it goes unnoticed.


	20. Nineteen

Nineteen

It was as if an icy chill had descended upon the room. Anderson wanted to believe that his eyes were playing a trick on him, that he wasn't really seeing what he was seeing now. But somehow, he knew it was the truth.

"Bianca, ye're—"

"_You called the name of my medium. It seems I resemble her more greatly than I thought,_" Bianca said, trailing off. She sighed, shrugging, "_No matter. In any case, now do you understand? You are very close to my medium, therefore, you were the perfect contact. I've explained to you before; your positive energy is incredibly strong, so it was highly necessary. I hope you can forgive me,_" she muttered dejectedly.

"Ah doon't care aboot that noo," Anderson said grimly, "Ah want t' knoo who ye really are,"

Bianca's eyes flickered. They were bright green. She looked just like Genevieve.

"_I have already told you; I am Bianca Kobel. As you can see, I was a priestess while alive. I spent time at many locations, assisting in the spread of the word of the Lord, our God,_"

"Sae then hoo did ye die?"

Bianca looked away, an expression of pain marring her face. Anderson waved it off, "Ne'er mind," he said, "Ye doon't need t' tell meh if it's painful,"

"_No, you have a right to know. But you're correct; it's very painful. I do not wish to speak of it at the present time, however I do promise to tell you the truth soon. Now, I understand it has only been a few seconds, but holding this form is difficult and I'm not yet used to it. Please excuse me,_"

She bowed lightly and as he blinked just once, she vanished, leaving only a speck of dissipating light floating in the air and...wait, what was that? He knelt down to get a better look. There was something on the floor. He gingerly reached out and picked it up, bringing it closer to inspect it. It was a pure, snow white feather.

He frowned. Now where did that come from?

/ooo/

"Damn it!" Maxwell roared, slamming his fist against the wall. Across the room, Edmond staggered back in fear, stumbling into the gurney carrying the corpse of yet another failed attempt at the creation of a new warrior. Nearby, Giuseppe and Mireille looked on, faces as blank as ever. Maxwell rested his arm against the wall, struggling to regain his composure.

"Yet another failure," he muttered, "That's the eighth one!"

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," Edmond stammered, "F-For s-some reason, t-t-these new ch-ch-children just aren't-t-t taking to the i-i-implants as w-well as we'd h-hoped,"

Maxwell's eyes blazed, his fury mounting. He turned calmly around to face Edmond, who resisted the urge to scurry to the other side of the gurney, which served as less-than-adequate protection from the enraged man.

"Edmond," Maxwell said silkily, " Tell me, have we enemies, at all?"

Edmond blinked behind his glasses, frowning, "E-Enemies, sir?"

"Yes, foes, rivals, a nemesis of any kind. People against whom we strive for perfection. Does anyone in particular come to mind?"

Edmond knew better than to be put off guard by Maxwell's tone. The man was a stretched rubber band just waiting to snap. He hummed uncomfortably, "Well, s-s-sir," he said, "H-Hellsing, p-perhaps?"

Maxwell smiled slyly and shook his head, "No, no, no, my friend, you are thinking too small, far, far too small. Think bigger!"

"Uh...," Edmond said, wracking his brain frantically, "T-The heathens, s-sir?"

"Bigger still, Edmond," Maxwell hissed, "How about the entire world?

"The w-world, s-sir?"

"Yes, the world, Edmond! An entire world out there filled with non-believers, people who would put their own petty desires over the will of our Lord in Heaven! Not just that, but also people who would fight for the rule of their own false gods to assume power in the hearts of man. People like her! People like _her_, Edmond!" Maxwell shouted, throwing his hands up and stalking to the other side of the room. Edmond stared after him nervously, "Uh, who m-might y-you b-b-be referring to, s-sir?"

Maxwell stood facing away from him, hands folded behind his back. He glanced back ever-so-slightly, his eyes narrowed and strangely menacing. Edmond had started to see him like this more frequently these days and it was highly unnerving, to say the least.

"Who? Who, you ask?" he said, "Why, none other than that heathen priestess! Bianca herself! How dare she defy us? What appalling god does she serve that she would _dare_ overstep the boundaries set by His Holiness!"

He lashed his arm to the side and swiped dozens of little glass vials off the counter where they crashed to the ground in a flurry of glass and liquid. Edmond blanched, but said nothing, just thanking God above that there had been nothing but water in those vials.

"B-But s-sir," Edmond said, "I h-haven't s-s-seen Bianca y-yet and n-n-neither have you," he pointed out, "H-How d-d-do you know s-she's here?"

Maxwell ground his teeth together, the blood from the slashes on his wrist oozing down his arm and dripping grotesquely onto the floor. He grinned fiendishly, "Oh, trust me, my friend, I know. I'm aware of everything she does. There isn't a place on earth she can run that I won't know!"

Maxwell grimaced suddenly, placing a hand on his forehead. He sighed and turned, heading for the door, "Never mind that recent subject," he said, "Just get to work on the next one,"

And with that, he left, leaving Edmond to ponder what he'd just witnessed.

Maxwell growled to himself as he made his way back up to the surface. Out of nowhere, he'd begun to obsess over this heathen priestess Bianca. Somehow, he could sense her presence stirring many, many miles away, though where, he couldn't be sure. He could sense it every time her heart made a pulse, every time she blinked, every time she spoke, and every time she moved. Like he'd told Edmond, there wasn't a thing she could do, wasn't a place she could go, that he wouldn't know.

His only question, however was, why?

/ooo/

It was early evening. Wynter had just awoken from a nap and now sat out on the front steps, grooming her wings. It was a nice evening and despite the lingering threat of Maxwell's plans, she felt somewhat more at peace than she usually did. The soothing motion of the comb through her feathers, the gentle rhythm of the teeth against the membrane, it was all very hypnotic and threatened to send her back into a deep sleep. She was glad she was doing it herself or she might very well do that.

"Ah, there you are,"

Wynter looked up at the sound of Alucard's voice.

"Evening, master," she said, "Haven't seen you in a while,"

"That's true," he said, pausing in front of her, "That's because you've been spending all of your time with that paladin,"

Wynter sighed, "Master, quit joking around. If I don't talk some sense into him, then who will?" she grumbled. Alucard grinned, "You know, there are other ways of getting people to see things the way you want them to," he said slyly.

"If you go picking fights, then Integra will yell at you," Wynter said.

"True enough," Alucard agreed, "So then, from what I understand, you're trying to learn more about that spirit possessing you, is that it?"

Wynter sighed, "Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it. From what I can tell, she seems kind of older. Master, are you sure you've never heard the name 'Bianca' before?"

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but she could have sworn she saw Alucard's eyes flicker all of a sudden. He adjusted his sunglasses and pulled the brim of his fedora lower over his face. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and turned, walking away, "I've already given you my answer, Wynter," he said as he left.

Wynter hummed and shook her head. He was lying. He'd heard the name before, but for some reason, he was refusing to reveal where or how he knew this Bianca person.

Wynter frowned. She stood up and sighed. That's it. This tore it. She was tired of this entire situation. Whatever was happening in the Vatican, whatever Maxwell intended to do with this whole 'world holocaust scheme', she was sick of it. All she wanted was to return to Bristol and go back to her job as mock leader of the cabal.

Yet even as this thought entered her mind, something else happened. She felt a familiar sensation coursing through her, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She couldn't place it, but she knew that it was an uncomfortable feeling. The first thing that came to mind when she tried to place its origin was Tobias. But she shook that off quickly. No, Tobias was dead. He was gone forever. Whatever attachment she still had to him, she had to forget, for her own sake at least. After all, dwelling on him wouldn't do her a bit of good.

She clenched her fists, angry all of a sudden. This wasn't fair. This whole situation at the Vatican was the entire cause of everything. Enraged suddenly, she unfurled her wings with a snap and a flurry of feathers. Just as she was preparing to take off, she felt a strange prickling in the back of her mind. It seemed like someone wanted to talk to her, but it didn't seem like Alucard.

"Who's there?" she asked.

"_So you'll leave to find the source of my vengeance, then?_"

Wynter frowned, "Huh? Source of—Bianca, is that you?" Wynter snapped.

"_Who else would it be, my friend?_" she heard Bianca say.

"Why are you contacting Anderson and myself? Answer me," Wynter demanded.

"_I have no hope of achieving my desires on my own, Wynter,_" she said softly, "_And I apologize for acting so rashly, before. However, my anger eats me within. I fear I cannot contain it. Therefore, I must dispel of its source while I still recognize myself,_"

"I see," Wynter said, "And who is the source of your anger?"

"_Who else? The very one who ended my life and the life of the one most precious to me,_"

"Most precious to you?" Wynter repeated, "Who is that?"

However, Bianca didn't have time to answer. For at that moment, there was a sudden commotion by the front gate several meters away. Wynter whirled in time to see about half a dozen Hellsing men rushing the gate with weapons braced at the bloodied and wounded figure standing just beyond. Wynter's sharp eyes caught the familiar silver crucifix around his neck. Her breath caught and she hurried forward, "Wait!" she screamed, "Stop! That's a member of Iscariot!"

She reached their midst and pushed her way through as they stared at her in bewilderment.

"Hey," one of them snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Wynter said, turning to the visitor. He was a younger member of Iscariot; it was clear from his age. He suffered from terrible gashes all down his chest and arms. One eye had been gouged out and he'd tied a ragged piece of cloth around his head to attempt to quell the bleeding. By some miracle, he was still on his feet, carrying a sealed, blood-spattered envelope.

"P-Please," he stammered, staggering, "Help...me..."

He started to fall forward and Wynter reached out and caught him, setting his limp body gently against her shoulders to support him. She turned to the amazed soldiers, "He seems to be carrying a message," she pointed out, "It's imperative that Sir Integra knows about this. Would someone please inform her that I'm on my way up with this man?"

One soldier stepped forward. His face struck her as familiar, but he showed no signs of recognition. He nodded gravely, "I'll head up there myself," he declared. Wynter frowned and glanced at their uninvited guest, his face chalky and his breath coming in haggard wheezes.

"Hang on," she said quietly, "I'll get you up there and hopefully, we can save you,"

As she walked, half-carrying him, he smiled ruefully, "Don't...bother," he gasped, "It's...already far too...late for...me. I know...he's here...,"

"Who?"

"Father...Anderson...He's here, right? I must...speak to him..."

Wynter's eyes narrowed.

Thankfully, that captain had informed Integra and Walter met them halfway, instructing Wynter to take the Iscariot down to the sub-levels where he hoped they could save his dwindling life. Wynter, however, suspected that at this point, there might be only one way to save him and there was no way in hell he'd agree to it. Still, if worst came to worst, it couldn't hurt to offer. After all, no one ever really wanted to die once their time came.

Halfway down to the sub-levels, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard approaching rapidly. Wynter knew then that Seras must have been talking to Integra and then Alucard decided to probe his apprentice's thoughts at the sudden spike in fear in her, finding out and then probably deciding to be nice _for once_ and let the paladin know. She assumed this, because it was the only viable reason Anderson appeared at the end of the hallway and caught sight of his wounded comrade. He gasped sharply, "Marcus!" he exclaimed.

Marcus raised his single, remaining eye weakly, "Father," he muttered. Wynter shook her head as Anderson came closer, "Lets' get him settled somewhere first. Then you can talk to him," she said. Anderson started to protest, but stopped, realizing that she was right.

There was almost nowhere to take him, so Wynter offered her own room. Walter had called for Dr. Trevelion to come immediately. By now, Integra, Alucard, Seras, and Sasha had gotten the message and arrived. Integra made her way inside, watching as Walter helped Wynter lay the poor man down on the bed. Sasha pushed forward suddenly, "Here, let me help. I know some basic medical treatment," she said.

"No...," Marcus said weakly, "Please...just leave me be..."

Wynter placed her hand on Sasha's shoulder, shaking her head slowly. Sasha's eyes widened as she understood and nodded once, stepping back to stand beside Seras.

Marcus raised a shaking hand, the one clutching the bloody envelope. He held it to Anderson, "Father...here," he rasped. Anderson gently took the envelope, but hesitated to open it. Marcus nodded once and then winced, "Open it," he said.

Hands shaking, Anderson did so, breaking the seal and pulling out the paper folded inside. He scanned over it quickly, his eyes growing ever wider until finally...they closed. His shoulders sagged all of a sudden and he backed up against the wall, staring at the floor.

"Hey," Seras ventured cautiously, "Are...are you all right?"

No one dared to move for a while. Finally, Wynter moved forward and reached out to take the paper from him. He didn't even try to stop her. She held it up to read it aloud:

" 'The roles have switched. What's a captain without his crew? Captain Hook, you who have so brazenly sided with Peter Pan, Wendy, Tiger Lily, Tinkerbell, and the rest of the pathetic little Lost Boys, have now had the tables turned on you. Your crew is at my disposal. Neverland is falling apart. The gate of two stars is slowly drifting away. So what will you do? ~Marku'," she finished, looking up. She looked back over at Anderson, eyes devoid of all emotion. Wynter could sense it. This had been the straw that broke the camel's back. Anderson's spirit, if not already, was on the verge of breaking. According to Maxwell, or strangely, Marku for whatever reason, it seemed that now, every one of Anderson's comrades had been either usurped or more likely, killed.

"So then," Integra said, "Who is this 'Marku'?"

"No idea," Wynter said, "But the name sounds kind of familiar. Master?" she said with emphasis, glaring at Alucard. She knew he knew more than he was letting on. But from the way he was refusing to answer, she could only assume he wanted her to figure it out for herself.

But Alucard, as they all expected, didn't answer. Wynter sighed and re-read the letter silently. Integra moved forward, gazing down somewhat bitterly at the dying man before them, "Tell me," she mumbled, "What happened to you?"

Marcus's breathing was even more labored than before. He shook his head, tears gathering at the corner of his remaining eye as he thought of it, "I don't...know," he gasped, "They came...they...they tore them to pieces! Frederika, Joseph, they...they were...ripped apart! They...never saw it,"

"And...," Anderson muttered, "Andrew and Leon? What o' them?"

"They...fled...," Marcus whimpered, his strains beginning to open his wounds again, "Heinkel...Yumie...they—"

He suddenly flew into a fit of coughing, expelling blood violently. Anderson went pale, both at the sight and from his last few words, "What aboot them?" He exclaimed, "Wha' happened?"

Marcus had begun sobbing in sheer terror, his own blood beginning to choke him to death, "They...they were...taken...away," he struggled to say.

Integra gritted her teeth, "Walter, where is Dr. Trevelion?" she demanded.

"He's on his way, ma'am," Walter said apologetically, "But will he..." he trailed off, glancing at Marcus.

Across the room, Sasha started trembling viciously in terror and Seras turned her away from the sight, unable to look, herself. Anderson staggered forward and knelt down beside his friend, "Ye did ae fine job, Marcus. We're a' prood o' ye," he said quietly. He spoke very softly, but Wynter could hear the strain in his voice. Strong as the paladin was, she knew that he was still human and that these losses were going to start taking their belated toll, soon. Wynter understood these kinds of losses. She sighed and stepped forward, pausing beside the bed, "Hey," she said. Anderson glanced at her suspiciously and Marcus turned glazing eye at her blearily. Wynter remained emotionless as she took a short breath, "I...I can save him," she offered, causing a cold stillness to fill the room, "He doesn't want to die, Anderson. I can save him, but—"

Anderson's eyes blazed in fury and his hand twitched, preparing to whip out a weapon and strike. But Marcus's dying voice made him pause momentarily, "I...appreciate the...offer," he whispered, "But...I want to die...honorably..."

Wynter nodded once, solemnly, "Of course. Please forgive me," she mumbled.

Marcus closed his eye and sighed. Right then, everyone in the room knew he was gone.

It happened too quickly, even for the vampires to follow, Wynter especially. Suddenly, she found herself hurled across the room, crashing hard against the wall and slumping to the floor in a daze. She could feel the hot blood trickling down her forehead and more slipping through her hair where her head had struck the wall. She shakily picked herself up, staring confusedly at Anderson.

"Hey!" Integra yelled, but Anderson paid her no mind, brandishing two bayonets and eying Wynter in a malicious fury completely devoid of all reason. Wynter watched him warily as she sat up, ruffling her wings, "You're upset," she said calmly, albeit sternly, "However, you must not attack the people here. If assaulting me will quell your anger, then by all means, go right ahead. If what I said was offensive, I meant no harm by it,"

"Like Ah'll believe that," Anderson snapped, "O' course, yer nothing but ae God-damned monster. That's a' ye are and that's a' ye ever will be," he hissed. He whirled and stalked out of the room.

Sasha was seething, literally trembling with rage, "Why that—" she growled, starting for the door.

"Sasha!" Wynter yelled as she stood up, wiping the blood from her eyes, "Let it go,"

"But Wynter, he—"

"I said let it go," Wynter snarled quietly, baring her fangs.

Integra cleared her throat, "All of that aside," she said, casting her gaze down on the dead Iscariot before them, "I suppose he'll have to be cremated and held here until a proper burial can be presented,"

"Is that really all right?" Seras asked as Integra swept past her.

"There's no other choice. Enemy or not, denying him something as simple as a funeral simply because of religious differences is childish and pointless. At the end of the day, he was still human, after all," she muttered. She left, leaving only Walter and Alucard. Walter turned to Wynter. She stood staring at the fallen soldier before them, eyes eerily blank.

"Uh...Ms. Wynter," Walter said. But Wynter just turned and brushed past them, unfolding her wings, "I'm going," she mumbled.

"Uh, going where?" Seras asked. Wynter paused, "Where else? To Rome, of course," she said simply. Sasha's eyes went wide and she rushed forward, grabbing her arm, "No! If you go there, you'll be killed for sure!" she cried.

"There's no other choice. I can sense him awakening. I cannot allow my medium to be compromised,"

"Huh?" Sasha said, releasing her. She scowled, "Wait a second, you're not Wynter! Your voice is different!"

"Wynter is weary," the voice said through the vampire, not looking at them, "I've sent her to sleep for a little while. When she has calmed, she will awaken again,"

"B-But..." Sasha protested weakly. The vampire moved toward the door and opened it.

"Bianca," Alucard spoke up for the first time. To the shock of everyone in the room, the Draculina paused and glanced at him, "Yes?" she mumbled. She seemed almost...dejected, all of a sudden.

"Remember to think before you act. The world has changed, you know,"

The Draculina smiled wryly, "Oh, not to worry," she said. And then, she was gone.

Walter, Sasha, and Seras stared at where she'd been for a few minutes and then all three turned to look at Alucard.

"Master," Seras said cautiously, "How much about what's going do you _really_ know?"

Alucard appeared pensive for a moment or two, almost nostalgic. Then, he grinned and tipped his hat, "Now, now, Police-girl," he said fondly, "Sometimes, the greatest mysteries in the world are best revealed when the time is right. Or when you solve them yourselves, whichever comes first. Besides, this whole thing is starting to sound rather amusing," he said with a dark chuckle as he warped through the wall, vanishing from sight.

Walter sighed, "He gets odder each year," he stated.

/ooo/

Anderson wanted to return to Rome right away. Marcus's death was bad enough; the kid had been so young, after all. He was only twenty-five. But he'd done his duty as a member of Iscariot and died with honor. Once this whole mess was over with, Anderson would make sure he received every blessing on his journey to Heaven. However, with the business at hand, there were more pressing matters. Marcus was no longer in danger. Heinkel, Yumie, Andrew, Leon, and any remaining members, they were another matter altogether. Marcus had said that Heinkel and Yumie were taken away. This concerned Anderson because he'd trained those two personally as they grew older. While he never used guns, he'd taught Heinkel how to aim with the perception of a hawk. Yumie had spent her life learning the art of Japanese swordsmanship since she was small and when she arrived in Rome at the age of seven, Anderson helped refine those skills to precision levels. Heinkel and Yumie were a deadly duo and Yumie, or rather, Yumiko Takagi and her alter-ego, Yumie, made a rather impressive foe. Her schizophrenic nature had been discovered by accident when she fell from a second story window and hit her head. Nowadays, whenever she suffered head injury to any extent, Yumiko went to sleep and Yumie awoke, controlled only by Anderson and, to some extent, Heinkel. How much she listened depended on her mood. It was because of this that Anderson didn't usually worry about them.

Now, however, worry ate at him mercilessly. If they'd been successfully captured, that could only mean that Heinkel had been restrained and Yumiko awakened. Yumiko Takagi herself was actually quite harmless. She was even squeamish about killing stray spiders that managed to infiltrate her room. She was also easily terrified. Anderson knew that if Maxwell was behind their abduction, he'd know to tell his followers to be especially careful with Yumiko and whatever they might do, not to cause her injury, lest Yumie awaken and slaughter them.

He knew that to return to Rome meant walking right into Maxwell's trap. By taking those two, he knew that he was setting very high quality bait and just waiting for Anderson to take it. And he was very tempted. He had no idea how much time he had.

However, even as he stood outside, leaning against the wall and running through these thoughts, his mind wandered back to earlier. Wynter's offer to save Marcus had hit a nerve, yes. But he knew that she'd been honest when she said she had good intentions. She knew that his comrades and close friends were being killed off one by one and she'd only been trying to help ease his pain by offering to save one of them, even if it meant turning him into a hated vampire. She'd only been suggesting it and by this point, he knew her well enough to know that she'd never think of doing it without his consent first. As was the case this time around, however, he'd struck out without thinking and it had taken all of his willpower not to impale her for daring to say such a thing out loud. Even he didn't know why he'd held back. All he knew was that he was feeling uneasy again, as though he felt something was about to happen, if it already hadn't.

His thoughts were jarred off track at the sound of soft footsteps approaching. He didn't turn; they were the footsteps of a vampire, cat-like and eerily silent. But there were currently four vampires at Hellsing right at the moment and he couldn't tell which one it was.

"Father Anderson, I presume,"

It was Louis. Anderson sighed in irritation.

"Wha' dae ye want?" he growled.

Louis paused beside him, a serious look on his face, "I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind,"

Anderson frowned suspiciously, but decided to humor him.

Louis shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall a few feet away, staring up quietly at the sky.

"Tell me," he said, "Why did you attack Wynter for that simple suggestion?"

Anderson started briefly, his eyes narrowed, "Ye heard?" he asked in surprise. He'd known for a fact that Louis hadn't been anywhere near that room when Wynter put out the offer.

"Of course. I am not telepathic to any strong extent like Alucard, but I have exceptional hearing, far keener than any animal's," Louis explained, "I could hear the blood dripping from her wounds, to give you an idea of my abilities. She was only trying to help, you know,"

Anderson sighed, unable to believe he was hearing his own thoughts from a vampire, "Aye," he grumbled, "Ah realize that noo that Ah've had some time t' think,"

Louis nodded wisely, "You were broken over the death of your comrade," he stated, "That's understandable. You know, Father Anderson, out of everyone involved in this little affair, I'd have to say that you have probably suffered the most. Chased from your homeland, shunned by your friend, separated from your comrades and now, this. It must be hard and I'd expect any regular human to have broken down long ago. Yet somehow, you're still functioning," he said ponderously, "You've quite the strong will, Father Anderson,"

"Why are ye telling meh this?"

"Because I suspect that something now drives you, whether you know it or not," Louis said, somewhat distastefully. He sighed heavily, "Although I'm far from happy about it, I've come to but a single conclusion on the matter,"

Anderson found himself a little wary of Louis' so-called conclusion.

"And?" he probed, in spite of himself.

"And," Louis continued, "My conclusion is this; what drives you is the vampire, Wynter,"

Anderson just stared in bewilderment.

"Yer oot o' yer mind," he growled.

"I assure you, I'm quite sane. I know her as the girl, Genevieve, whom I fell in love with over a century ago when her family moved to Marseilles. Has she told you how frail she was as a human, by any chance?"

Anderson frowned. As a matter of fact, she had told him that.

"You see," Louis said, "Genevieve was going to die the year she turned twenty. I could sense it within her, sense her heartbeat becoming weaker by day. Becoming a vampire is ultimately what saved her life, Father Anderson. I am now glad for her sake that she lives and it makes me happy to see her smile. However, this has not been the case for a long time. As you probably suspected, I keep tabs on her, watch out for her progress and activities. I've forced myself to become the older brother in her life, a position I dread. In this manner, I am able to watch over her from afar. She always seemed to be searching for something to ease her boredom and loneliness. I have heard stories of the human man who freed her over seventy years ago, Tobias Flint. It's a local myth in Nara, you realize. But I'm digressing. As much as it disgusts me to realize, Wynter, as she is now called, seems to have grown very fond of you. As such, her respect for you is quite deep,"

Louis paused to let this information sink in. He closed his eyes and continued, "She looks to you in a way I had not expected. I am under the impression that she considers you a very special person in her world. To tell you the truth, this is a position I have fought for for years and one that you seem to have stumbled into. Are we on the same level, here?" he asked.

Anderson didn't answer. He didn't want to admit that they were. He didn't want to even consider this path of thought Louis was headed down.

The vampire took his silence as agreement and nodded, "Yes," he said, "Wynter cares deeply for you and chooses to remain silent out of consideration for you. She offered to save that kid today because she knows that you have suffered immensely over the past several weeks. She, like myself, can sense that you are close to your breaking point. The only difference is that she is determined to keep you from going that far. And so she offered to do the one and only thing she was capable of doing; saving that kid the only way she knew how,"

Anderson looked away. Louis sighed, "I'm not done yet," he said, "There's one other thing. Living amongst humans, I have the rather unique ability to sense the turmoils within their hearts. You are no exception. Tell me, have you felt a great deal of anxiety or uneasiness as of late?" he asked. That question could have sounded pompous, but the way Louis spoke made him seem merely inquisitive, simply curious. Anderson sighed, "Aye," he grumbled, "Quite ae bit. It's oon'y stress,"

"I'd beg to differ," Louis said, this time sounding pompous, "In fact, I'd wager that you harbor a similar level of concern about Wynter. It's only natural; your greatest enemy, the one person you spend an infinite amount of time struggling with, fighting endlessly in a perfectly matched arrangement where an outcome of any sort is uncertain. After all, you've had many, many chances to take her life since the two of you met, yet you've only succeeded in five measly attempts. And now, you seem to brush aside any approaching opportunity, almost as if you're reluctant to kill her,"

"Ah want ae challenge," Anderson snapped, "Ah wonnae kill her when there's nae challenge involved,"

But he didn't look at Louis when he said this. Louis sighed, "You're human through and through," he said, smiling, "A vampire would have known to look me in the eye if he were serious about what he just proclaimed. Look, caring for someone isn't a crime, even if they're not what people would call 'normal'. In reality, vampires and humans aren't as vastly different as you tend to believe they are. Vampires are really just 'gifted' humans. Yes, we require blood to survive, but then, so do humans, just in a different fashion. Take away the blood from a human, they die. Take away the blood from a vampire, we go into torpor, but we still ultimately die. We're powerful, but then, so are humans. We have natural abilities, humans have unnatural abilities crafted from the world around them. Those bayonets for example," he said with a gesture in Anderson's direction, "The metal of their blades was forged from the earth in an unnatural fashion. Vampires simply build upon the gifts they already possessed as humans, such as speed, agility, sight, hearing, and sense of smell,"

"Agh," Anderson grumbled, waving him off.

"Scoff at me all you like," Louis said, "But it doesn't change my point that you harbor a deeper concern for Wynter than you might wish to admit to yourself. You spend a lot of time trying to figure out a way to kill her and yet, it's fairly clear to me that during the times you're with her, you don't revisit your strategies to do so. Wynter knows human emotions better than anyone because of the life she's suffered. She knows the human heart and all of its strong and weak points. As a vampire, she is incomplete and she is still suffering to this day from the loss of the one person in her memory to ever care for her like she was a living being and not just a monster. Even now, she is treated badly by humans and I'll tell you this; she wants nothing more than to know that there are others out there like him, who can see her for what she truly is; a gentle, relatively harmless and intelligent creature who only wants a place to belong. Think about what I've told you, okay? Who knows? Maybe an epiphany will come knocking, or maybe you'll just decide to stop treating her like the blood-sucking demon you seem to think she is," Louis said, turning. He waved back once without a glance back and continued on his way. Anderson stared after him, frowning. He knew he didn't like Louis. And now was no exception. That damned vampire had just succeeded in breaking down every defensive wall Anderson had set up within his mind, allowing all of these notions he refused to acknowledge to surface and make themselves known to him.

"Agh," he snarled, whirling, "There's nothing t' think aboot,"

But as he started off in the opposite direction, he happened to look up in time to see a large black shape wheeling off to the east, great dark wings beating rapidly. His eyes widened.

"Wynter!" he exclaimed. Instinct told him where she was headed and he knew that she was choosing to follow the same impulse he'd tried to follow.

She was going to Rome.

"Nae, she wonnae think o' this," he muttered. But he knew that she would. Wynter had been showing signs of waning patience with this whole thing for a while, now. And what with Bianca's emergence in her mind, things were beginning to escalate downhill alarmingly quickly. Now, only one thing came to mind. He had to stop her. If she went there, she'd be killed for sure. However, by now, she was already out of sight.

"Ah've go' t' stop her," he muttered to himself as he ran back the way he came.

High in the sky, beating wings hovering aloft in the air, Wynter hung limply, eyes squeezed shut and fangs gouging her lower lip as she struggled to stay conscious.

"No," she mumbled, "Where are you trying to take me?"

"_I've been gentle and understanding long enough, Wynter. It's time you gave me a little taste of fresh air,_"

Wynter shook her head, eyes snapping open, "No! You'll just take us there! I don't know what you want, but it's suicide to go alone!" she cried.

"_Silence! You and I are already dead! Even if my remaining essence is torn apart, I will have revenge for our deaths!_"

"Do you mean mine?"

"..._No. You were simply born into this unfortunate coincidental fate. I am fortunate that your will to live was strong enough to overpower my curse. Now go to sleep and let me out!_"

Wynter instead beat her wings viciously, sending herself into a spiraling free-fall back down to earth.

"_Fool!_"

Wynter cried out in alarm as Bianca took hold of her, forcing her consciousness back into the depths of her own mind. Wynter felt it as her body seemingly grew lighter as Bianca took control, righting her from the fall and whirling eastward, toward Italy. By now, she was so weak and tired that she was unable to fight back. Bianca, whether she knew it or not, was taking them to their deaths and she couldn't do a damn thing about it. Just before she as herself faded into unconsciousness, Wynter uttered a single question; "Bianca, just who do you despise so much that you're willing to throw our lives away like this?"

"_That man who murdered me and the person most precious to me. That man who ruined my life and destroyed my soul and the one to whom I direct my curse. That man called Marku,_"

Wynter's eyes widened in alarm and two past events flashed into her mind; the letter carried by the last Iscariot Marcus, signed by Maxwell under the name Marku, and her promise to Anderson to settle this without Maxwell's death. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense.

But now, she was too weak to resist Bianca any further and as she sank into the enclosing darkness, she closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Anderson," she whispered.


	21. Twenty

A/N: This chapter is for Master of The Boot, without whose criticism I would not be seeing the various mistakes I've been making. You rock, dude! And now, without further ado, (since I really don't have much to say right now) on with the story.

Twenty

It hit like a bomb.

Integra didn't show it, but she felt the stab of anxiety for the entire situation, the weight of the change threatening to crush the breath from her lungs. She didn't move, she just stared stonily at the paladin standing motionless ten feet away in her office. Beside her, Walter bristled nervously, his eyes narrowing.

"So then," Integra said with no trace of the turmoil she felt, "She's gone, has she?"

"Aye," Anderson said, "Ah saw her take t' the skies no' twenty minutes prior. She's gone t' Rome. Ah believe it's no' her, though,"

"What do you mean?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Ah mean, it's no' her. It's Bianca,"

Integra sighed heavily, "All right, it's time for someone to explain who this Bianca is. I've heard her name thrown about and quite frankly—"

But she never got to finish her sentence. At that moment, the door to her office was hurled open and Sasha and Seras rushed inside, followed by a rather calm Alucard. Seras skidded to a halt just feet before she'd crashed into Anderson, who simply turned. She blanched, grinned nervously and then looked over at Integra, "Is it true? I saw Wynter fly away! Is she going to Rome?" she exclaimed in a panic.

"We need to go after her! Someone has to stop her!" Sasha cried.

"She's a'ready halfway t' Italy by noo," Anderson interjected.

"I'm afraid he's right," Integra said, "We can still catch up to her, but she'll have already arrived by then and we'd only be setting ourselves up for religious warfare by breaking the boundary pact we've managed to uphold with the Vatican. The last thing we need to do right now is start a war. However, right now, it seems that more..._unusual_ events are taking place as we speak," she said, casting her gaze on Alucard, "And I think it's time that you told us what's really going on, Alucard,"

The vampire stood in the corner with his arms folded, face shadowed by the brim of his wide fedora. Everyone turned to watch him expectantly and the air in the room grew very still. But Alucard still didn't move. Integra took a few steps forward, arms folded behind her back as she stared him down, "Alucard, you enjoy playing mind games with the people around you. Yet this time, you seem to want us to figure out what's happening on our own. I'm quite certain that you're not so daft as to think that this is something we can actually decipher without assistance from someone who likely witnessed it firsthand,"

Alucard raised his head slightly, his eyes blazing in the shadows beneath his hat. He blinked once, slowly, as if studying his chances of keeping silent.

"Alucard," Integra continued, "Exactly one year ago, you mentioned that you sensed something 'different' about Genevieve Du Beaumont when you met her. Now that I've been given all the pieces of this puzzle, that part returns to my mind. You knew what was really going on even then, didn't you?"

Alucard shrugged ever so slightly. Integra sighed irritably, "You know who Bianca is and you very likely have a connection to her somehow. It's also likely that you know who this Marku is, as well as the reason Wynter has suddenly departed for Rome,"

"Wait," Anderson said suddenly, "If that's true, that ye dae have ae connection t' Bianca, then does that mean that yer the one she wished she could speak wi', but was unable t' faur lack o' spiritual energy?"

"I suppose you could say that," Alucard answered at last, "It's very typical for a vampire to lack any kind of positive spiritual energy. I've yet to meet one that doesn't,"

"So I was right," Integra muttered, "You do know Bianca. You need to tell us, Alucard, who is she?"

Alucard smiled wryly as he looked up, adjusting his sunglasses.

"She's my sister," he said, allowing for a dramatic air to surround them. A stunned silence filled the room and soon, Seras was finally able to find her voice.

"S-Sister?" Seras exclaimed, "You mean she's really—"

"Alucard," Integra said sternly, "My family knows your story intimately. If this is possible, how is it that we've never known of it?"

Alucard slowly moved across the floor the look out the window, almost as if he were watching his memories float across the surface of the glass.

"It's because we're not related by blood," he explained, "In reality, she was one of the few people I trusted with my secrets and I with hers. We became blood siblings on the night of the new moon over five hundred years ago, mingling our blood and swearing eternal loyalty to the other,"

"Five hundred years?" Seras breathed. Integra's eyes narrowed, "Alucard," she ventured, "This is only on a hunch but, were you even a vampire then?"

Alucard turned, regarding her carefully. He hummed in thought and then faced the window again, gazing out toward the horizon, "No, I wasn't," he answered, "Not yet, anyway,"

"So what does Bianca have to do with Wynter?" Sasha asked.

Alucard sighed, "When I saw her for the first time, I must admit, I was a bit surprised, for I recognized Bianca immediately. Genevieve looked like Bianca in every possible way. Even her mannerisms were the same. She greeted me as though I were an old friend. Her will was as strong as ever. I've suspected ever since then that Genevieve was Bianca's reincarnation,"

"Reincarnation?" Integra repeated suspiciously.

"That's correct. I have many reasons why I suspected this to be the case, one of them being last year when Genevieve supposedly returned to Wynter's body. At first, I believed this to be the case just like all of you. But it wasn't long before I realized that Genevieve had been dead for a long time and that Bianca was sorting through the mixture of her own memories versus those of Genevieve's that had been lost in Wynter's subconscious. When Arakawa's artificial army attacked, there was an explosion from the top of the tower where Genevieve had flown off to. That was what made me realize that it wasn't her; it was Bianca losing her grip on Wynter's subconscious, the backlash of spiritual power released from her body in an instant causing that uproar,"

"So that was never Genevieve at all," Integra said.

"No. And Bianca has lain dormant in Wynter all this time until now, now that he has finally been awakened," Alucard said.

"By 'he', you mean Marku," Integra stated.

"Yes," Alucard answered, "I recall Bianca's hatred of him quite clearly,"

Integra sighed, "We haven't much time," she said, "Alucard, we need to know everything. We have nothing to go on and whatever you know may help us in some way,"

Alucard frowned. He appeared to be making up his mind whether or not to actually say anything about it. Just knowing that he'd formed a blood pact with Bianca centuries before was weird enough. But now, it seemed this person had been reincarnated and was apparently trying to exact revenge against someone for whatever happened to her in the past.

"Ah doon't see hoo this matters, noo," Anderson interrupted impatiently, "Right noo, we're on the verge o' war,"

"Actually, I'm under the opinion that it could matter quite a bit," Alucard said, "Whoever Marku is, Bianca holds a tremendous grudge against him. My belief is that he was also reincarnated, although the recipient of his spirit may have been somewhat less than willing. You see, I knew Bianca for a little over two years, but once she departed, I sensed her death and that was it. Clearly, this Marku is the one who killed her,"

"If what you're saying is true," Integra said, "Then the person he was reincarnated into is none other than Enrico Maxwell,"

"Exactly," Alucard replied, "Sharp as always, Integra. And Bianca wishes to kill Marku, meaning that when she does, she'll be killing his host as well,"

Anderson felt his blood run cold.

"So," Walter said, "Assuming this to be the case, and comparing it to Wynter's recent encounters with Bianca controlling her mind, this would lead one to believe that Maxwell may be undergoing a similar situation and very likely has virtually no awareness of what he's doing, nor does he have any memory of doing it,"

"I'd liken that to be the case," Alucard said disinterestedly, "With this in mind, it's highly probable that Giuseppe and Mireille were nothing more than pipe dreams Maxwell had been toying with at the time of Marku's awakening. Marku likely forced their creation in order to distract us from the true objective. And since we've done nothing but chase after them needlessly for some time now, I'd have to say he was successful," Alucard smirked.

"Sae Ah was right," Anderson mumbled. He turned, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Integra asked.

"If Bianca's taken Wynter and gone t' Rome t' kill Maxwell, Ah've go' t' intercept them befaur it happens," he replied without looking back.

"Hey," Seras said suddenly, "Um, how is it you know of Bianca?"

Anderson hesitated, but didn't answer her. Here, Alucard spoke up again, "I think I can answer that for him. In her life, Bianca was, among other things, a very powerful priestess. She drew her spiritual energy from people around her. I suspect that our friend the Paladin here was the perfect candidate to resurrect her spirit in such a short amount of time, whether he wanted to or not,"

Anderson clenched his fists and scowled, "Ah'm going, noo," he growled.

Integra sighed and turned to her companions, "Seras, Alucard, and Sasha, I want the three of you to prepare yourselves. All three of you are going to Rome as soon as possible. It's likely that this entire situation may be solved soon,"

"Right," Seras said, grabbing Sasha's arm and dragging her, protesting, out of the room. After Alucard departed, Walter was the only one left in the room. Integra sat down with a sigh, resting her chin on her folded hands, "Walter, who'd have thought we'd face the spirit world after all this time?" she muttered.

"It's rare to hear you talk of such things," Walter pointed out.

"I've an open mind, Walter. In this business, I have to. But to think we knew nothing of this concerning Alucard. He formed a blood pact with Bianca,"

"When you think about it, much about his past is still unknown to anyone but him," Walter said, "And I have reason to believe that he may have even sealed off some of it from even himself,"

"He doesn't hide from anything, Walter. This includes himself. He's still withholding information concerning Bianca. He must know who Marku is and it's becoming clear that he's trying to protect Bianca,"

"Now _that_, if anything, is rare," Walter chuckled, "For him to want to protect anything, other than you and Wynter, that is. And the latter is simply because he can't tolerate his past failures to do so,"

"In any case, it strikes me as rather odd that he'd try to defend someone who's been dead for centuries. Perhaps history is repeating itself, Walter,"

"Hm?"

"Alucard turned Genevieve and then failed to protect her when she was taken away. What if Alucard tried to protect Bianca from something in the past five hundred some years ago...and failed then, as well?"

/ooo/

"Wait! Hold on a second!"

Anderson really didn't feel like putting up with Louis right then. His patience for the vampires in the area was about to run thin. The only thing he cared about right then was returning to Rome, finding Wynter and stopping her from allowing Bianca to kill Maxwell, who likely hadn't a clue what he was even doing. It sounded insane, but at least it explained his equally insane actions over the past few weeks. Maxwell may have been unstable, but even he wasn't _this_ crazy.

Even despite ignoring him, Louis managed to get in front of him and held out a book to him, "I already know what's happening and I'm preparing for it myself. Here, you might want to read the article I've bookmarked in this old manuscript,"

"What is it?" Anderson asked.

" '_Legend of The Winged People'_. Corny title, I know, but I managed to save it from my burned out home in Marseilles. It escaped the blaze nearly intact. It talks about a race of winged beings called the Illmorein. I believe that they're somehow connected to this and my reason for saying so is that they were believed to have died out a little over five hundred years ago, when the last recorded Illmorein was said to have passed away from unknown causes. I was unable to find much, but perhaps you may notice something. If nothing else, it'll give you something to do on the plane,"

Louis shrugged and shoved the book in his hands. Then, he turned and hurried away, presumably to get ready.

Anderson stared after him and then looked down at the book in his hand.

"Ae legend, huh?" he mumbled, "Whatever,"

He continued on, his thoughts moving back toward his one goal; reaching Rome and stopping Wynter before she got too far.

Anderson barely noticed as he made his way through London toward the station. He'd have to take a train to the airport and from there, he'd make his way back to Rome. He knew that Seras, Sasha, and Alucard would follow him. At this point, Anderson's only concern was stopping Bianca. Maxwell had no idea of what he was doing. Anderson couldn't fault him for this. Maxwell was being controlled by something and Bianca was the true target.

On the train however, his mind went back to the book with the marked article sitting on the empty seat beside him. He reached over and picked it up again, flipping it open and browsing through the pages. In the middle of the book, one page caught his eye. It was a painting that had been scanned in. No, actually it looked more like a wood carving. It showed a person with flowing hair of an inconclusive color with their back to the viewer, showing full-length speckled wings outstretched to catch the wind. The caption beneath the picture described this being as a legendary Illmorein, an individual belonging to a race of winged humans, or so it seemed. Intrigued, Anderson turned the page and found a brief description;

_The Illmorein, rulers of the skies above, unmatched in speed and agility by any living creature. Beautiful, majestic, deadly, this most dangerous of species has coexisted with the human race for thousands of years, since their mysterious evolution aeons ago. At first believed to be humans with wings, or angels, it has been discovered that they bore resemblance to humans, but were not human. Experts argue that the Illmorein people may have been capable of flight higher than most airplanes in modern times can fly, and faster than any raptor on earth. No one knows how the Illmorein evolved or why they died out. The last recorded Illmorein was said to have lived around the year 1453 and perished sometime around the same time period. (See page 102) _

Anderson flipped to page 102 for information on the last Illmorein.

_The last Illmorein's life was relatively unknown, understood only by documents left behind concerning her existence. According to human writings, the last Illmorein went by the name Larka Sanoe Nightingale, wandering the countryside aimlessly after armies of northern __and southern Europe, lords unknown, banded together to destroy the last of the species hiding out in the mountainous regions of northern Europe. Larka Sanoe Nightingale survived the slaughter and fled. It is not known to where she escaped or how long she survived therein. Over the years, even her description has been lost to the sands of time. It is only known that when spotted, she was often mistaken for an angel, due to her pure, snow white wings. _

Anderson frowned. White wings? His mind went back to when Bianca had appeared before him and when she vanished, he discovered a white feather on the ground where she'd been standing. He shook his head. No, there wasn't any connection. There couldn't be. He looked out the window. Off in the distance, he could see a large flock of crows flying off toward the sunset. All of a sudden, he felt uneasy again. Was he actually more worried about what would happen to Wynter, rather than Maxwell? The only reason be even considered this idea was because all of a sudden, memories of the last few weeks came to mind. Going to buy some books downtown and hearing her metaphor she used to describe how they got along, getting stuck by the tide and hearing her story for the first time, and even further back to when Sasha was injured and Wynter waited outside the orphanage for her. When Lia approached her and Wynter repaired her doll for her, effectively bringing out the friendly, talkative little girl they'd all hoped existed. But a few memories stood out the most, such as Wynter defending the orphanage from Dorcas and Harriet and having her wings torn off in the process, or even the most recent one of offering to save Marcus. Even though it had only been a few hours ago, it already felt like a distant memory. And this uneasiness wouldn't go away. The more he thought about what could possibly happen, the more worried he became.

"Damn it," he grumbled, "What's happening t' meh?"

/ooo/

Edmond took a gulp of water from the bottle on the desk beside him and sighed. Those were the seventh pills he'd taken in two days. They were meant to calm his nerves and he never usually needed so many. But these days, what with Maxwell slowly getting scarier, Edmond couldn't help it.

He glanced over at the table where two more children lay dead, their faces covered. For one reason or another, they just weren't accepting the implants. Edmond was starting to think that maybe it took a special body chemistry to work. In any case, eight children were dead because of those blasted implants. It didn't seem to be working any better on children than it did adults. Maybe Anderson, Giuseppe, and Mireille were exceptions.

But then there was another thing to consider. Anderson moved and acted like a normally functioning human being. He had his own thoughts, ideas, actions and personality, and if you didn't already know what he really was, you'd never even guess it. The twins however, had none of that. Just looking at them was enough to tell that they weren't normal children. They moved like robots, Edmond had yet to hear them speak of their own will, or at all for that matter, and brain scans showed very little cognitive activity, meaning that hardly any thoughts were being processed other than the orders given previously. Anderson and the twins were as different as night and day, despite the fact that they shared the same technological modifications in common. What Edmond was just unable to figure out is why. Why was he perfectly functional, but they could barely stand on their own feet?

The door slid open and Edmond shuddered as Maxwell stormed inside.

"Are they ready yet?" he demanded.

"N-No, s-s-sir," Edmond stuttered, "I-I'm af-fraid they're d-dead,"

Maxwell's eye started twitching rapidly and he let out a roar of frustration as he whirled to the side and upended the work bench, sending all the items atop it crashing into the wall. Edmond, desensitized to such ruckus by this point, only blinked and swallowed nervously. Maxwell sighed, leaning against the upended desk and glaring over at him, "So, yet another set has perished," he grumbled.

"Y-Yes s-s-sir," Edmond stammered, "It s-s-seems m-more lik-ke bod-d-dy ch-chemistry is the main f-f-factor in s-survival. I really d-don't think a-age has a-anyt-thing t-t-to do with it,"

Maxwell ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh, "Damn it! Giuseppe and Mireille are formidable, but they aren't enough! We need more! She will soon be here! I cannot let her stop me this time!"

"D-Do you m-mean B-B-Bianca, s-s-sir?"

"Of course! She's closing in, but she won't succeed!"

Edmond blinked. Maxwell was beginning to make less and less sense as time went by. Just what the heck was he babbling about?

"I cannot allow her to find us," Maxwell muttered, pacing, "We'll have to apprehend her before she can infiltrate our numbers,"

He whirled all of a sudden to face Edmond, "Where is Giuseppe?" he demanded.

"Uh, u-upst-stairs, I t-t-think," Edmond stammered, "W-With M-M-Mireille,"

Maxwell nodded, "Good. Summon them with the new numbers and have them assemble within Rome. Tell them to be on the lookout for a girl with wings,"

"Uh, w-why m-me?" Edmond asked.

"I have to...get ready," Maxwell grumbled. He left the chamber and stepped outside, shutting the door. Then, he leaned heavily against the wall, one hand clasped over his eyes.

"My head...it hurts..." he muttered, gritting his teeth. He opened his eyes and looked around blearily, frowning, "Wha...what am I doing down here? Oh, forget it," he grumbled, moving toward the stairs. Head still pounding, he ascended slowly, trying to sort out how he'd wound up in the underground chambers.

/ooo/

The train ride seemed long and tedious. The air around the three of them was heavy. All three knew why. At the last minute, Integra had changed their orders. All of a sudden, masses of people around the countryside were dying suddenly and inexplicably. Sasha theorized that it was the work of vampires from Leroy's gang, taking advantage of Wynter's sudden disappearance. Despite the lingering threat of a religious war looming over their heads, Integra had no choice but to send them to deal with these attacks. She was unable to either ignore, or placate the fact that dozens of vampires had attacked innocent people in under two hours. The Round Table conference members were in a frenzy, trying to keep too much information from leaking out. Sasha had contacted Marjorie and as a result, a dozen of the cabal's best soldiers working beneath Wynter and the other two mock-leaders were sent out to help deal with the problem. This left only Anderson to assume control of the situation concerning Wynter and Bianca. It was a rather worrisome combination of misfortunes.

"Wynter left about two hours ago," Sasha mumbled, "Anderson left just over an hour ago. We were supposed to be leaving for Rome a half an hour ago. But instead, we're heading to Bristol to take care of the remnants of Leroy's people and I'm left to worry myself crazy over Wynter,"

"Sasha, you know we can't just ignore what's going on," Seras said, "Think about how many people have died already,"

"I know," Sasha said with a sigh, "But still, Wynter's all I have left anymore. I know that someday, I'll die and leave her behind, but I can't help but stay near her. I know it's selfish of me, but I just can't seem to change how I think of it,"

"So what?" Alucard said suddenly. Sasha and Seras both looked up curiously.

"Master?" Seras asked.

"So what?" Alucard said again, "Vampires can't help their extended longevity and humans can't help their ridiculously short lifespans. There's nothing you can do about it,"

"Longevity?" Sasha said, frowning.

"Absolutely. There's no such thing as an immortal," Alucard said, "We're as immortal as the number of humans we devour. Their lifespans are simply added to ours. There's nothing immortal about us. Stop us from drinking, force us to deplete our store of life and we will turn to dust and die after a time,"

He looked out the window, face blank. Seras frowned suspiciously. Alucard seemed to be trying to say something else mixed in with that little explanation. Could it be that he was actually scared, himself? Scared of the day when he knew that Integra would die and leave _him_ behind?

/ooo/

The musty old dungeons hidden deep beneath the ruins outside of Rome offered little light and barely breathable air. Unaccustomed to darkness, Heinkel could only struggle to focus in the dim lighting around her, listening to the muffled whimpers of her companion in the cell adjacent. She sighed heavily, spinning one of her guns in a circle on the floor, "Yumiko, please," she said, "Calm down. Ve're going to be fine,"

"Easy for you to say," Yumiko whispered, "You can fight back. I'm chained just about everywhere possible so that Yumie can't be brought out!"

"Too bad you haf to be hit over the head for her to avaken," Heinkel murmured.

"It's not fun! You don't know what it's like living with her!"

"I can imagine; that's enough," Heinkel replied. She leaned up against the wall and closed her eyes, listening to the deafening silence all around them. Who knew silence was so noisy.

"You know," Yumiko said, "I still can't believe he turned on us like this. After all we've all been through,"

"Do me a favor _und _don't get all vishy-vashy on me, Yumiko. This ist real life, not some half-baked drama,"

"I'm aware of that," Yumiko snapped, "But Maxwell's no different than we are. When we were kids, we attempted to befriend him because he was always by himself. Even Father Anderson had difficulty getting through to him. Even though he never really accepted us, Maxwell treated us differently from the others, remember?"

"He saw potential as varriors, nothing more," Heinkel said, "He vas alvays cunning, alvays planning. Perhaps he'd been planning this betrayal for years,"

"Somehow, I just don't believe that," Yumiko said quietly.

"That's typical of Yumiko," Heinkel said dryly, "Alvays trying to see the good in people, vhether it exists or not,"

Yumiko chuckled sheepishly, but both of them froze as the door to the catacomb chambers suddenly opened with a loud squeal of hinges. Footsteps, plus the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor met their ears. Heinkel sat up and she heard Yumiko's chains rattling as she attempted to do the same. She crawled to the bars of her rocky alcove cell, peering out into the darkness beyond. She could see three people of Neo-Iscariot, as Maxwell had started calling it. They were hauling something black across the floor and Heinkel frowned when she saw the unmistakable glistening of blood in its wake. Whatever it was was alive.

"Ugh," one of the men grunted, "Almost there,"

"She's lighter than she looks, but she sure put up one hell of a fight. I think Amos is still knocked out,"

They opened the door to a cell directly across from Heinkel and Yumiko's. With a single shove, they hurled the thing into the alcove and slammed the door, locking it. One of the men bent down and placed something on the floor, lighting it with a flash that illuminated the darkness for but a moment. Heinkel caught a whiff of incense of some kind and recognized it as the holy incense that the Pope often burned in his study, the variety that was supposed to ward off vampires. It hit her that the thing they'd just locked up across from them about twenty feet away had to be none other than a vampire.

"Will that hold her?" one of the men asked.

"I don't know," the first one said, "Don't forget, she's the vampire that took on Giuseppe and lived. I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't. However, His Holiness assured us some time ago that this incense incapacitates any and all vampires, so we should be fine. Now then...," he said, turning. Heinkel's breath caught when she realized they were walking toward them. She instinctively reached for her guns before remembering that they weren't loaded. She heard Yumiko whimpering in fear.

"All right you two," the man said gently, "Come on, it's time to go."

"Lucas, it's you," Heinkel hissed, "So you're on his side now, huh?"

"I don't want to die today, Heinkel. We have orders to take you two to him,"

Heinkel knew better than to argue and grudgingly allowed herself to be cuffed, watching helplessly as they dragged Yumiko out while she continued to mumble to herself in terror, trembling so hard the chains encasing her rattled.

"Vhat about that one?" Heinkel asked, jolting her head in the direction of the now occupied cell across from hers. The occupant within was beginning to stir, moaning in pain from her apparent injuries.

Lucas shrugged, "He told us to bring her here, but not to kill her for whatever reason," he explained.

"Hm," Heinkel muttered. She and Yumiko were removed and slowly led out of the dungeons. Heinkel glanced back at the cell as it disappeared into the darkness. A chill ran down her spine at the appearance of two blazing red orbs gazing out at them. The vampire had awoken, but made no apparent move to try to escape. Heinkel knew that incense was keeping her contained.

Walking beside her, Yumiko had finally stopped whimpering, but continued to shake viciously as she forced her feet to keep moving. Heinkel sighed and shook her head. Yumiko was definitely a wimp, but she was no coward and contrary to popular belief, there was in fact a difference between the two.

Of course, even if Heinkel had been able to predict the future, she wasn't sure if it could be changed. She had ideas of what was going to happen and knew that she needed to be prepared for it. After all, what she did between now and then could affect her entire existence altogether.

/ooo/

For some reason, Rome looked different. Maybe it was the twilight settling over the land that gave the city an eerie aura emanating into the world, or maybe it was the secret knowledge Anderson possessed of what was happening within it. He knew he was in dangerous turf once again by setting foot here. He also knew that very few of his compatriots still walked this sacred ground and that the ones remaining had likely fled for their own protection. In this case, pitted against an enemy from their very own ranks, their commander, no less, Anderson could hardly blame them. This type of situation was unprecedented.

It was evening. The city was beginning to die down for the night, the locals heading home after a long day and the tourists making up their minds whether to head to their various hotels or stay out longer. To Anderson, it didn't matter. He only knew that he was likely running out of time. If Bianca had managed to get Wynter this far, he knew that Maxwell's life was in danger. If the theories he'd learned about what was happening to Maxwell were true, then he'd been correct all along; something _had_ been wrong with Maxwell and he technically held no blame in this matter. With this in mind, Anderson knew that he had to help him. Maxwell likely had no idea what he was doing. This factoid didn't matter to Bianca, who desired Maxwell's blood for whatever reason.

"Ah cannae figure oot Bianca," he muttered as he made his way through the city toward the Vatican, "She did'nae seem like the type t' pull this off,"

But then, now that he thought of it, he didn't really know her at all. He only knew that Wynter was both her medium and apparently, reincarnation. He personally held little faith in the whole reincarnation bit, believing that once you died, you went to either Heaven, Hell, or Limbo, incidentally the place to which he was fairly certain he held a spot in. But then, he supposed, God did have a funny sense of humor and perhaps there were some stories he wrote that he enjoyed revisiting from time to time, hence that old phrase, history repeats itself.

He froze on the sidewalk, staring into space as it hit him; he was using Wynter's metaphor to describe God. He groaned and covered his eyes, shaking his head. He'd been spending far too much time with that blasted vampire.

Once he drew nearer to the Vatican, he waited a good distance away, judging his chances. He was still being hunted, had no idea what to expect, and knew that a single misjudgment on his part could get him captured, or possibly even killed for real. Like with most vampires, his heart was his fatal weakness. If it was damaged too greatly, the chances of his survival plummeted. It didn't necessarily mean he'd die. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what would happen if his heart were destroyed. It had never been tested, so the outcome was foggy at best.

As he waited, leaning against the side wall of an antique shop across the square, he briefly wondered if Wynter had made it there. The Vatican, and even Rome itself was a dangerous place for vampires. With hunters and clergy-folk everywhere, it was nearly impossible to infiltrate by those of undead status. He somehow doubted that she'd made it inside. In fact, he knew instinctively that she'd likely been taken prisoner. If that were the case, then...

He shook his head, quelling such thoughts. This was no time to worry, and to worry about a vampire of all things!

The sun was setting. In this case, darkness was an ally to the exiled paladin. Blending in as best he could with his dark clothing, he skirted the edge of the square, keeping his eye on the main entrance of the Vatican and the stairs leading up to it. He did his best to walk quietly, but to him, each footstep sounded like a gunshot in the quiet, drowsy city. He noticed a few scattered people here and there, but none of them were of Iscariot, or of the Vatican. At least, he didn't think so. With so many members dead and many others usurped under Maxwell's control, it was hard to tell who was who anymore. Anderson figured his best bet was to lay low and be forever wary. As far as he was concerned, the only ones in this city he could trust were Heinkel, Yumie, and Wynter, wherever they were. As much as is shamed him to admit, he wasn't even positive he could trust the Pope. Until this mess was straightened out, everyone save for the mentioned three was a potential enemy. He knew that Heinkel Wolfe and Yumie/Yumiko Takagi would rather have died than betray the man who practically raised them. Tiny as it was, this small thought gave him a bit of a morale boost in such a bleak situation.

He frowned as he inched ever closer. Then there was Wynter to consider. He knew better than to assume that she'd join the enemy's ranks. After all, she wouldn't just be betraying him, she'd be betraying her cabal of vampires lurking in Bristol. But despite her status as undead, something told him that she wouldn't turn on him. He wasn't sure how he knew, or why he even believed this inner voice, but he knew.

As it turned out, making it inside of the Vatican was a lot easier than he'd anticipated. It was early enough that the doors were still open. He was able to slip inside unnoticed, but damn did it feel weird having to practically break into the place.

Once inside, Anderson could have walked those sacred halls blindfolded and still point out what pieces of artwork hung on which wall and by whom they were created. He knew that Maxwell was probably in the underground labs. If Bianca had gotten this far, then Anderson was fairly confident that she didn't know about the hidden catacombs. If he was able to get to Maxwell first, he could at least try and defend him without his knowledge. Truth was, again, he'd acted impulsively. He hadn't exactly planned out what he was going to do once he actually found Maxwell. But he supposed that with his current circumstances, working as he went made sense for the moment. Who knew how long it would work, however?

Keeping an eye down each and every hallway, he made his way through the dim corridors to the statue of Gabriel, which he hoped was still standing after he'd broken it before. Fortunately, he saw that the horn had been repaired as he approached. He hesitated before attempting to open the door, however. He knew that Maxwell had been aware that he'd return at some point. There was a strong possibility that an alarm system had been set up. But then, he reasoned, permitted individuals entered these catacombs all the time. Perhaps now was no different. He sighed and reached out, opening the passageway with the repaired horn, watching as the door slid up and open. He hurried forward before gravity forced it shut again, suddenly finding himself surrounded in that familiar darkness. Making his way down a clearly familiar path, he took each step slowly, listening. He couldn't afford to let them know he was coming. He knew he needed to avoid Giuseppe and Mireille at all costs. They'd been dangerous the first time he saw them and they were sure to be downright deadly by this point. He was aware that no new cases of attacks on heathens had sprung up recently, meaning that Maxwell likely hadn't created any other soldiers. His plan of overthrowing the world's government was at best, daft and worst, deadly. Throwing the world into a religious dictatorship was just plain stupid; all that would do was drive away Catholics. But what worried him was that once this was over and Maxwell fully awoke from his controlled state, he might see how far he'd actually gotten and attempt to continue it. Anderson couldn't allow that to happen. He knew better than to let it; there was a right and a wrong way to do things like this and that was most definitely the wrong way. Throwing the world's economy out of balance by eliminating every heretic and heathen on earth was _not_ the way to bring out union in a Catholic world. If anything, it would end the world as they knew it and possibly even decimate belief in God altogether. Iscariot members knew that they couldn't save and/or destroy _every_ heathen on earth.

Anderson sighed. Maxwell could be pretty stupid when he wanted to be.

He paused outside the door at the base of the narrow stairs. Leaning against the wall, he listened carefully. He heard nothing. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the room at present. However, aware that he couldn't be too careful, he drew forth two bayonets, reaching forward and slowly opening the door. He stepped inside, eyes narrowing. The room was empty. Edmond, usually atop his stool in the corner, was nowhere to be seen, which was unusual, since he rarely left this room. The computers were on, but the screen a bright blue with odd computer jargon plastered across it. Anderson vaguely recognized this screen; he'd heard computer gurus call it the 'Blue Screen of Death', or something like that. It meant that the computer had either been infiltrated by a virus or had some other kind of technological malfunction that would cause it to break down. He approached the console and set his weapons down for a moment. He pulled the keyboard closer and pressed Ctrl-Alt-Delete, a typical maneuver for avoiding a possible freeze or crash. Nothing. He knelt down and pressed the button on the main computer to manually shut them down. The motor's constant whirring slowed and the screens went black, filling the room with a suffocating darkness. Anderson waited a few minutes, listening to his own heartbeat in the encompassing silence. Finally, he pressed the button again to turn the machines on.

Nothing.

He pressed it again and then once more, but still, nothing happened. The computers were dead. He stood up and sighed, wondering what he should do next.

_Thunk!_

His breath caught in alarm at the realization that he wasn't alone anymore. He snatched his weapons up, whirling, eyes wide for any sign of movement. He caught something shuffling behind a generator off to his right.

Something white. He took a tentative step forward.

Instantly, he felt a searing pain shoot up through him, an invisible force snaking around his body and forcing him against the wall in a crushing grip. He struggled furiously as the weight grew stronger, the pressure heavier. Within seconds, he found he could no longer move as the pressure became too great and simple breathing became a nearly impossible task as he felt his chest being compressed painfully. Each breath came as a desperate gasp and he felt himself becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen. He felt like he was being crushed by a snake of immense proportions. His vision going blurry, he remained awake just long enough to see Mireille walk calmly into his line of sight, stopping five feet away and watching him blankly. Just before blacking out, Anderson's last conscious thought was that he was caught.

Mireille watched as the paladin went limp. The minute she sensed he'd fallen unconscious, she released him and he fell to the floor.

She turned slightly as the door behind her opened. Maxwell stepped inside, hands folded behind him as he gazed down coldly at his fallen mentor.

Suddenly, he gritted his teeth and clutched his forehead, his eyes widening in alarm, "A-Anderson!" he exclaimed suddenly, "Wha— What happened? Father Anderson!"

He grunted suddenly and stumbled back, eyes squeezed shut, "Go away! Just get away from me!" he snarled.

_Really now, if it were that easy, you'd have been rid of me long ago, mortal. _

"You demon! What did you do to him?" Maxwell snarled, yanking his hair in frustration. The cold voice laughed, _Why, I have done nothing. Your own creation did this. Rest assured, my friend, he's still very much alive. But how long he remains that way is up to you. _

Maxwell opened one eye, staring down helplessly at Anderson, who lay motionless on the floor. He sighed, "What do you want? Just tell me already!"

_I want total control. We have Bianca, we have her medium and we have the man who resurrected her. If you do not allow me control, I shall take it and kill your precious teacher while I'm at it!_

Maxwell struggled to hold onto his own mind against this demon penetrating it. Yes, there were many, many times he and the paladin didn't see eye to eye, but he had still raised him, given him the chance no one else would. It was thanks to Anderson that Maxwell had even come this far, even become the great person he was today.

"Very well," he growled, "You may have control. But leave Father Anderson out of this,"

_Of course. But just to keep me from the temptation of killing him anyway, why don't you have him brought to the dungeons as well? I'm sure Bianca would want one final chance to say goodbye to the one who gave her the means to return to this world. I will have no chances. I will never be destroyed. Never!_

Maxwell sighed heavily. Seeing no other option, he hesitantly nodded.

"Very well," he muttered.

A/N: Uh-oh, now Anderson's caught. Whoops, now how could that have happened? Oh, that's right. Hehe. Well then, I hope this chapter goes off all right. But seriously, MarzBarz was here again and now she's vanished again. I hope everything's okay. I miss chatting about crazy story ideas with her. T_T


	22. Twenty One

Twenty-One

The shots rang out, the blood pooling along the ground beneath both their feet and the bodies of the fallen ghouls, mingling with the dust of their vampire host. Sasha sighed and lowered her gun, allowing her tense muscles to relax at last, "It's over," she breathed.

"Yeah," Seras agreed, lowering her own weapon, "I think we got them all when we killed that vampire. Good thing he was a natural, or we'd have been in for a lot more work than this,"

"Yeah," Sasha said, "I've heard of those mysterious chipped vampires you keep mentioning. Is Integra investigating them?"

Seras nodded, "She is. But so far, she hasn't come up with much. Nothing worth working with anyway,"

They both glanced up as Alucard approached, reloading the Casull with a new cartridge. He stored the gun in his coat, "Well, it seems you two have kept busy," he said.

"Gee, thanks for the compliment," Seras grumbled.

"Now," Alucard said without a missing a beat, "I think we ought to be heading back soon. I have a feeling we're soon to be needed at Hellsing,"

"Why's that?" Seras asked curiously as she slung her weapon across her shoulders. Alucard threw her a sly, almost anticipative grin, "I see your intuition hasn't quite set in, Police-Girl," he said with a leer. He shrugged, "Not to worry; when you get to be my age, you'll learn to tell when something's as amiss as it is right now,"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Sasha asked, suddenly alarmed, "Is Wynter in danger?"

"Probably. No actually, highly likely is a better response," Alucard said with little regard to Sasha's anxiety. The girl's eyes went wide with fear, "We need to get back now! Wynter could be in trouble!" she cried. She bolted forward, heading toward the station before Seras could stop her. Fortunately, Alucard reacted more quickly and lashed out, snatching her arm and yanking her back so hard, it almost wrenched her shoulder out of the socket. Sasha flopped to the ground with a yelp and sat up, clutching her stinging shoulder and glaring up at the vampire, "What the hell was that for?" she snapped.

"Patience is a virtue, Sasha," Alucard said. Seras was a little surprised at that; Alucard didn't usually address many humans by their names, much less speak to them.

"But Wynter—"

"—Is far more resilient than you give her credit for," Alucard interjected, "Besides, she has everything she needs to get through her current situation. With Bianca overseeing this, it's only a matter of time," he said, hands in his pockets as he strode off. Seras hurried forward and helped Sasha to her feet, staring after him gravely, "Master, I seriously think it's about time you told us everything," she said sternly.

"First, we need to catch our train, Police-Girl," Alucard said, "We should hurry back shortly and don't worry, for I've given it a lot of thought and I intend to spoil you all a little and tell you everything when we return,"

And with that, he headed off calmly, actually whistling as he went. Seras and Sasha exchanged stunned glances and stared after him in bewilderment.

/ooo/

Anderson heard the squealing of rusty metal and the sharp clanging sound of a door closing. He raised his head, supporting himself on one arm as he shook the dizziness away, blinking unaccustomed eyes to the suffocating darkness around him. He figured that he must have blacked out when Mireille ambushed him. He saw the dim shadows of people milling about outside..._bars?_ It hit him, then. He knew where he was! He was in the dungeons beneath the Colosseum, the secret catacombs originally used to house prisoners of war until they could be fed to the lions during a typical Roman spectacle. Only this time, he was on the wrong side of the bars.

Still feeling dizzy, he struggling to a kneeling position and peered out, trying to make out who his captors were. It seemed they'd noticed his awakening.

"He's awake," he heard one of them say in hushed tones, "This is bad; we're supposed to be out of here before he comes to,"

"Too late for that, now," another one murmured.

Anderson shuffled over to the bars, knowing from experience that he was unable to stand up in this cramped space, "Who's there?" he called, "Tell meh who ye are,"

"Uh...,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed in recognition, "Hm, Ah knoo ye," he said, "Ye're Arnold Harris an' Douglas McDowell, aren't ye?"

Awkward silence confirmed his suspicions. Anderson sighed, "Aye, Ah remember ye two," he said, "Ah ran int' ye the night ye torched that bakery,"

"We already told you; it was an accident! We didn't mean for things to get that far!" Arnold protested lamely. Anderson wanted to laugh at his idiocy. Here he was, arguing with his prisoner about quite possibly one of the most trivial matters of the day.

"Sae then," Anderson said, "Mind tellin' meh why ye sided wi' Maxwell?"

"W-Well," Douglas stammered, "Father Gregory was sending all of us recruits away to the ruins to hide. But me and Arnold got separated from the others and picked up by Neo-Iscariot. It isn't like we had much choice, Father Anderson,"

"We're sorry! We're only following orders!" Douglas exclaimed shrilly.

"Noo settle doon, ye two," Anderson said, "There's nae need t' be alarmed. Even if Ah was angry wi' the two o' ye, there's no' ae damn thing Ah could dae aboot it from mah position. Also, Ah harbor nae soor feelings toward ye; ye're oony' trying t' survive, right?"

Arnold and Douglas both exchanged sighs of relief.

"Thanks, Father," Douglas said gratefully, "As soon as we stop this mess, we'll come let you out of here. Maxwell ordered us to come back here in a bit to kill some vampire they've got locked in here. He says it's our first test as members of Iscariot,"

Anderson felt his blood run cold at Douglas' words. They had a vampire locked in here?

"Tell meh," he said sternly, "Where is this vampire?"

Now accustomed to the low light, Anderson was able to see Douglas jerk his thumb to the right, "She's in the cell beside yours. As you probably know, there's only a few cells that can be opened and these are two of them. We didn't have much choice there, either. Lucas helped us bring her down earlier,"

Anderson frowned, casting a glance off to the right toward the crumbling stone wall. He hummed, "Ah see," he said, turning back to them, "If ye doon't mind, Ah'd like t' be the one t' deal wi' her when the time comes, understand?"

Again, Douglas and Arnold showed evident relief, "Well, if you insist," Arnold said cheerfully, "Truth is, we really don't think we're ready to take on a vampire yet. We still haven't completed our basic training course,"

"Yeah, and this one's strong. She took out two of our number before we were finally able to subdue her and bring her down here. And then she came to just seconds after we locked her in. We've got that special incense burning to keep her quiet,"

Anderson nodded grimly. They were right; he could smell it clearly. He knew then that Wynter had to be suffering immensely right then as they spoke. That stuff was rough on vampires.

"Aye," he said, "Ah believe Ah understand everything, noo. Ye two, get on back t' the ootside world. This musty air will damage yer lungs should ye linger too long,"

"But what about you?" Douglas asked, "We could get you a mask or something to help purify the air a little,"

Anderson smiled, "Ah appreciate yer concern," he said, "Hooever, there's nae need t' worry aboot meh; Ah'll be fine,"

He nodded them off. Douglas and Arnold exchanged confused glances, but turned and hurried away, promising to return to release him as soon as they possibly could. Anderson listened for their footsteps dying away into the distance. Then, he moved toward the corner of the cell, leaning against the bars to stare into the darkness beyond. He could see the little vial of incense burning on the ground a couple of feet away. He frowned, but sighed and rested his head against the cold metal bar.

"Hoo did Ah get mahself int' this mess?" he grumbled.

"The same...way you get...into all of...your messes,"

Anderson bolted upright, eyes wide. Someone had just answered him! He recognized that voice instantly. So she _was_ awake.

"Wynter," he called, "Are ye there?" '

"...Yeah, more or less," she moaned. Her voice was strained and weak. She was clearly in pain from both possible injuries and the incense.

"Hoo long have ye been here?" he asked.

"Please...don't make me...talk right now," she hissed. Anderson eyed the incense on the floor a couple of feet away. It wasn't too far. He could probably reach it. If he could put it out, the smell would remain, but its effect would have diminished greatly, allowing her more freedom to move around. If she was injured, she was probably unable to regenerate. A month before, he'd have been questioning his actions with the greatest distaste. But now, he knew that he couldn't just not do anything. He couldn't explain it, but he just didn't feel right allowing her to keep suffering like that.

His weapons were gone, save for a single hand spear hidden in the lining of his sleeve that miraculously survived. He pulled this weapon free and reached out through the bars, straining to get the incense. He managed to grab a hold of the container, dragging it toward him across the limestone floor. Once he could grab it, he quickly crushed the stick of incense, putting it out and reducing its effect on Wynter. As he predicted, the scent lingered, but he heard her shuffling around in her cell and knew that she was capable of movement once again.

"Thanks," she said hoarsely, "I've been in here for hours, now. That stuff was really starting to get to me,"

"Ah had ae feeling ye go' captured," he said blandly.

"Gee, I'm so glad you have such confidence in me. Jerk," she snapped, "In case you didn't know, I don't remember being thrown in here. I only remember coming to and smelling that damned incense,"

"Ah knoo," he said, "Bianca brought ye here,"

Wynter sighed heavily, "Yeah, she did. She attempted to find Maxwell, but he was prepared. We were ambushed and Bianca was forced back. Next thing I know, I'm here. Ow! Damn, it,"

"What's wrong?"

"Because of that stuff, I couldn't regenerate, so I'm stuck with all of these wounds I need to heal,"

"Hm," Anderson said, staring at the floor. He could hear the slight rumbling sound of her shadow matter escaping from her wounds, attempting to close them.

"I'm a bit surprised," she said.

"Faur what?"

"Well, that you got caught as well. You're one of the last people I expected to join me in this dreary place, topped only by Alucard,"

She had a point there. He hadn't expected to get caught. But then, he hadn't expected to face Mireille, either. Maxwell had been right; she was just as dangerous, if not more so, than Giuseppe was. Briefly, he wondered when the object of their concern had changed from the twins to whatever was happening concerning this Marku and Bianca. Anderson wondered where he fit in with all this.

"Was it Mireille?" Wynter asked.

"Aye," he grumbled, "Ah ne'er saw her coming. She used some kind o' force to constrict meh, keep meh from breathing. Ah suppose Ah blacked oot,"

"She sounds a bit daunting," Wynter said, "If she could take you out so easily, then I wonder what they're like fighting together,"

"Ah'm no' sure Ah want t' find oot,"

Wynter chuckled, "Me neither,"

They fell silent. The only sounds were the slow movements of Wynter's shadow matter healing her body. Gradually, even they fell still. The ensuing silence was deafening. It almost served to remind them of their predicament. The fact that death could possibly linger nearby for both of them weighed heavily on both their minds. Anderson knew that there was a greater chance of it for her. There was always the chance that Maxwell would regain his senses and allow him to live. But Wynter was another matter. She was a vampire; she'd be killed no matter what. He was aware that she knew this.

"Hey," she said quietly, " I'm probably going to die, aren't I?"

Anderson started in surprise, glancing in the general direction of her voice. He was right; she _had_ been thinking about it.

"It's ae strong possibility, Wynter," he answered.

"I thought so. You know, I never thought that it would come to this, that I'd die in a place like this. I always hoped that when my time came, I'd be able to die either in my home in Marseilles, or in the same place where Tobias died,"

"Why those?" Anderson asked.

"Because," Wynter said wistfully, "Even though I've no memories of the place, like all vampires, I harbor a strong connection to my birthplace. As for my second choice, I still feel like I failed Tobias, both as his dam and as his friend. I turned him, yet I was unable to protect him. I couldn't save him at all,"

Anderson hummed and then sighed, "Ye may or may no' die t'day, Wynter," he said, "In any case, if t'day is in fact the day, then Ah'll be the one t' kill ye,"

So you actually care enough to want to do it yourself, rather than let the others do it?" Wynter asked.

"Ah did'nae say that," Anderson snapped. Wynter started chuckling.

A short amount of time passed. By and by, Anderson soon became aware of a faint scratching sound coming from somewhere nearby. He frowned, glancing around in the darkness curiously. What was that? A mouse?

He jumped in alarm when he realized the scratching had gotten louder directly behind him in the wall he'd been leaning against. He sighed heavily, "Wynter, what are ye doin'?" he muttered.

"There's a crack here. I'm trying to widen it. Maybe I can find a way out this way. I can't go through the wall for some reason, so I'm trying something else," she replied.

"Ye're on'y digging int' mah side o' the cell," he told her.

"Well, if the structural integrity were to collapse, we could escape that way. After all, I doubt a few dozen pounds of rubble falling on us will kill us, right? It's worth a shot,"

He had to agree with her. After all, these walls were thousands of years old and he was actually kind of surprised that they were still being used in modern times by the Vatican.

He sighed and shook his head as he picked up the hand spear, "Ah cannae believe Ah'm aboot t' dae this," he grumbled as he too began to chip away at the wall's foundation. The idea had merit; if they could get it to collapse, sure they'd be buried in rock and debris, but it certainly wouldn't kill them. They'd just dig themselves out and escape that way.

He paused momentarily as a large chuck of rock dislodged itself and clattered to the ground beside him. He stared at it a moment and then resumed working.

"Uh-oh," he heard her say suddenly. He froze, "What?"

"Anderson, you may want to back away. I think I broke the wrong stone,"

The wall began to shake and rumble ominously and Anderson moved back a ways, watching it and bracing for the possible collapse of both the wall and ceiling. However, the wall crumbled and shook into pieces before them, scattering a huge cloud of dust into the air as it sank to the ground with a dull roar. Anderson covered his mouth, coughing as he inhaled the dust and waving it away futilely.

"You okay?" Wynter called.

"Define 'okay'," he growled.

"Not dead,"

"Then Ah'm okay,"

As the dust settled, they were able to see the extent of the damage to the wall. He watched as she processed the situation from her side and sighed, shoulders sagging, "Jeez, that didn't work at all!" she groaned, "The wall collapsed, but everything else survived,"

"Ye have t' give credit t' the people that built this place," Anderson pointed out. Wynter shrugged, "Yeah, I guess you're right. But it doesn't make me feel any better,"

She picked her way across the debris, crawling over to his side and sitting down in front of him, "So on the bright side, at least now we have a little more space,"

"That's ae bright side?"

"Can't you humor me this one time?" Wynter grumbled. He didn't reply. Instead, he moved back to the wall, leaning against it and closing his eyes. Wynter watched him with a look of grave seriousness on her face.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Faur what?"

"I was only trying to lighten the situation. You know, you aren't as good at hiding it as you think you are,"

"What?"

"Hiding that you're just as frightened as I am. I was only trying to help,"

"Sae what makes ye think Ah did no' realize it mahself?"

Wynter frowned, "I see. So you were being considerate after all; I suppose I should take you up on it. But still..."

She trailed off, shaking her head and pulling her knees up, resting her chin on them and sighing, "It's an awfully bleak situation, isn't it? I really don't think I've felt this hopeless since I first found myself in Takeshi Arakawa's grasp,"

"Tell meh something. If Alucard was yer master, hoo come he did'nae come t' find ye when ye were captured?"

"Our telepathic connection was severed, somehow," Wynter answered, "It would have taken him years to find me and besides, he got himself captured sometime between then and the time Tobias freed me. By the time Tobias was killed, Alucard was already under servitude to the Hellsing family. Even if we'd found each other, it was far too late for me to return, or for him to take me back,"

"Sae when ye met him, he was actually—"

"—Yes," Wynter interjected swiftly, "However, he used the name Alucard as a public alias. Not many people are clever enough to deduce what it really means. The way I see it, that doctor must have heard this alias at some point and adopted it in the end. It doesn't matter what happened; Alucard would never have found me, again. I'm glad I escaped before they did something more irreversible than what's already been done,"

Anderson stared up at the ceiling, "There's something Ah've been curious aboout faur ae long time, noo," he said, "What would possess someone like yerself t' ask t' be turned int' ae vampire in the first place?"

"I'm not really sure what you mean. I've already told you my story. Even if I'd known how little time I actually had left as a human, I probably still would have done it under the circumstances. Actually, there's one thing I haven't told you and it probably relates to those very same circumstances,"

"And what's that?"

Wynter looked away, "I remember what I saw the night my family was supposedly murdered. I sometimes see it in my dreams. I can't access my subconscious memories while awake, but they return to me in my sleep. One of those memories is watching the ghoul of my fiance devouring the body of a woman, presumably my mother. I usually wake up when he turns toward me. Under those same events occurring, my becoming a vampire was inevitable. If I hadn't escaped and found Alucard, Louis would have turned me knowing he'd be saving my life in the long run and risking running my hatred for him. Can you honestly fault me for wanting to keep living, Anderson?"

He considered her question seriously, eyes narrowing, "Ah cannae find fault in yer decision," he said at last, "Hooever, ae vampire is still that; ae vampire,"

Wynter smiled blandly, "You're certainly stubborn," she said, "So, to change the subject, did you finally come up with what you want for the debt?"

"Actually, Ah did,"

"Good, then lets' hear it,"

"Ah'd like the opportunity t' fight ye, where if Ah emerged the victor, Ah'd acquire the right t' take yer life,"

Wynter sighed. She knew it. He'd found the loophole, just like she predicted he would. He couldn't ask for her life directly. However, he could ask to fight her for it. No matter what argument she or anyone else could come up with, that was a fair request.

"Very well," she said, "So then if I were to defeat you, I'd get to keep my un-life, per se, and then have the choice of whether or not to take yours, instead,"

"Aye. Hooever, Ah dae no' intend t' lose,"

"So be it. A fight to the death, the victor claiming the loser's life," Wynter said calmly, a little too calmly, "But hear this, Alexander Anderson, if you dare to hold back, know that I will not hesitate to strike first,"

He smirked lightly, "Ah was aboot t' say the same thing t' ye," he said. Wynter nodded and closed her eyes, burying her face in her folded arms. He suspected she was going to sleep. It was a good idea. It was likely they'd be in here until sunup and that was hours away. If they were facing possible execution in the morning, best be rested for their final struggle. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, trying to relax in spite of his pounding heart.

He heard a faint rustling close by. It sounded like wind. He opened his eyes and glanced over at Wynter curiously. He was surprised to see that she was sitting up and glaring at him blankly. Her eyes were strangely empty. Had she gone blind again? No, she was focusing. She wasn't blind. It occurred to him that her eyes seemed different, less blazing red than they'd been before.

"Wynter?"

"It's been awhile, Father Alexander Anderson," a strange voice said, coming from Wynter.

"Bianca!" Anderson exclaimed, eyes wide.

Bianca frowned, shuddering her wings behind her. As he watched in amazement, the black coloring seemed to be bleeding from the feathers and into shadow matter on the ground, replaced by what appeared to be white, creating a strange speckled pattern.

"What are ye doin' here?" Anderson asked carefully, never taking his eyes off her. Bianca remained expressionless.

"I'm going to tell you a little story," she said.

/ooo/

Integra could hardly believe what she'd just heard. Staring hard into the eyes of her vampiric servant, she processed what he'd just told her, sorting out a possible lie, or attempt at trickery for the elusive truth in his words.

"So," she said, "You say you will tell us everything?"

Alucard nodded once, "The way I see it, Integra, Bianca won't listen to reason. If I want to end this ridiculous situation, I have to let the cat out of the bag, as they say," he said with a leer. Behind him, standing against the wall, Seras and Sasha exchanged worried glances. Walter cleared his throat, "So you intend to tell us the story of Bianca's life some five hundred years before, is that correct?"

"Yes, that about sums it up," Alucard said, "So I recommend getting comfortable; it's rather lengthy,"

Integra eyed him suspiciously as she lit a cigar, folding her hands beneath her chin, "Very well. Proceed, my servant," she commanded lightly.

Alucard moved to stand by the window, seemingly adding his typical dramatic flair to his coming words as he gazed out at the moonlight. Integra suspected that he was sorting through his vast store of memories, back to the days when he still lived as a mortal.

Back to the time in his past kept so cloudy, that even she had no idea what to expect from him as he began.

/ooo/

_The clattering of hooves through the forest rang out in the once-peaceful mountainside. Small animals fled to their burrows as the large beasts passed. Larger animals like deer blended as best they could into the foliage, rightly suspecting a hunting party approaching. _

_ The horses skidded to a stop in a wide clearing at the base of the mountain. The leader turned his horse in a wide circle, scanning the terrain while his men looked on quietly. _

_ "My lord," one of them said, "Might we be lost? This forest is dense and the day is short," _

_ "Possibly," was the curt reply, "However, do not fret amongst yourselves. This path is well-used," _

_ His logic was vague, but it made sense. Snapping the reins, he continued forward, followed closely by his men. The terrain wasn't incredibly steep. In fact, they were headed downhill, which was a good thing. It meant they might soon reach the end of the forest. _

_ One of the men sighed as he steered his mount around a fallen tree trunk crossing the path, "From sunrise to sunset we spent hunting these grounds, and not a bird, nor beast have we to show for it," he mumbled. _

_ "Quite true," their leader said nonchalantly, "Luck simply wasn't in our favor. We shall try again another day. Hopefully, we'll be better prepared," _

_ The men exchanged confused glances. Except for the loss of the map sometime that morning, how had they been unprepared? Sometimes their lord seemed a little too relaxed every now and again. _

_ Suddenly, the ominous cry of a wolf echoed through the trees around them and the far off sounds of their growls could be heard sprinting down the mountainside. The leader frowned, hummed and then snapped the reins again, spurring his horse into a gallop down the path. His men let out exclamations of alarm at his hurry, but he paid them no mind. It wasn't even twilight yet and he knew from experience that wolves never hunted at this time of the day, not in this region of the Carpathians, anyway. He knew that it could only mean a human had dared trespass in their domain. _

_ He caught fleeting glimpses of streaking black in the bushes alongside his horse and heard their growls over the frantic whinnying of the flight animal he controlled. Multiple times, it tried to rear and buck to escape this dangerous path, but being a skilled rider, he kept his steed in line and on path down the mountainside, the cries of his men for him to wait dying to his ears. _

_ Finally, he arrived in a clearing where a large band of wolves had gathered around three human carcasses festering on the forest floor. Beyond the tree cover, he could see a large river and a small village nestled on its opposite banks. _

_ One of the carcasses was being torn to shreds by the beasts, who paused in their voracious feeding to snarl at him as he appeared, the alpha leaping forward to challenge him. Quickly, he scanned the situation, taking in a second body, scantily armed and clearly a bandit, and a third body lying off to the side, gender, race, and features obscured by the dense foliage. _

_ He spurred his horse into action, charging into the midst of the wolf pack and scattering them. Experience taught him that wolves challenged foes they could defeat. If the victim fought back, its chances of survival skyrocketed, especially if injury was inflicted upon a single member of the pack. Wolves never attacked in such a way that even one member, no matter how lowly the rank, would sustain injury. As he predicted, the wolves snarled and gnashed their fangs viciously, but backed down, tails between their legs as they scampered into the bushes to wait until their chance arrived again. They would not return so long as he remained and stayed on his guard, so he dismounted with a feeling of tense security as he moved to inspect each of the bodies. The first one was already unrecognizable as human, though his wounds were clearly fresh. The second was in the same state and both men had died probably in the last half-hour alone. As for the third body, he approached carefully. Peering across the ferns, he noted with some suspicion that this body was partially naked, a large white clothing article lying discarded a few feet away. The entire upper torso was unclothed, but the body lay face-down, long, flowing black hair extending in a sea of ebony clear down the back. As he drew nearer, his eyes widened in horror. _

_ The body was that of a young woman and his immediate suspicion was that she'd been set upon by the bandits and likely raped, probably left for dead. He couldn't explain the two dead bandits lying a few feet away and figured that perhaps a quarrel had broken out amongst their comrades and they'd gotten caught in the scuffle. _

_ He frowned at the lack of physical injuries on the woman's body. He drew near and knelt down, searching her face for any sign that she might still linger among the living. Her eyes moved beneath the lids and her pulse throbbed at her throat, but the movement was so subtle that he hadn't noticed it until now. She was still alive, but she was in poor condition. He sighed and removed his cloak from his shoulders, shaking it free of leaves and twigs trapped in it from riding through the trees. As he draped it over her to cover her, his hand brushed against her back and he glanced down at a single, snow white feather lying beside his boot. He frowned, but disregarded it as he gently turned her over, covering her with the remainder of the material as well as her own discarded clothing and lifted her into his arms. At the same moment, he heard the stamping of hooves as his men finally caught up with him and trotted into the clearing, taking in the situation. One dismounted and hurried over, "My lord, what happened here?" he exclaimed. _

_ "I'm not very certain, myself. I discovered wolves feasting on that man there and this woman lying in the bushes. It's my belief that she may have been involved with bandits lurking in these mountains," _

_ "Will you bring her with us?" the man asked. He nodded, "I shall. I cannot very well leave her here, can I?" he said mirthfully, "Here, hold her, will you?" _

_ He handed her carefully to his follower while he climbed back into the saddle. He reached down to take her from the man and positioned her limp form to lean against him, supported upright by his right arm while he held the reins, keeping her from falling. He turned the horse so he faced his men, "Let us be on our way, then," he called. _

_ "My lord, what about them?" _

_ He looked back at the bodies of the fallen bandits. He could already hear the wolves sniffing about in the distance, awaiting their chance to return to their hideous repast. _

_ "They're dead," he said, "Let us see the living, home," _

_ He flicked the reins and started off through the trees. He could hear the others following closely. He looked down at the woman, seemingly asleep. Her face was bruised, one eye blackened. She'd clearly put up quite a fight. He had to admire that, even if in the end, she probably failed. No woman should be denied the right to defend herself against violation by men. He had to make sure he got her back to his home and in the capable hands of one of the female servants before she awoke. Understandably, she'd likely harbor a deep distrust of men and he didn't want to make her believe he meant her harm. He'd question her when the time was right. He felt he had to, especially after what he saw on her back as he handed her off to his man. _

/ooo/

"Ae story?" Anderson repeated, baffled.

_ "_Yes," Bianca said, "The story of how I came to be, here in this world, in your world, in the world I no longer hold any right to occupy, as a human, as a priestess, or as..."

She trailed off, shaking her head. She sighed, regaining her composure, "Father Anderson, you have given me the chance to take the revenge I swore on the man who ended my life. I should really thank you. Your bond with my medium allowed my awakening much more quickly than I'd anticipated. The fact that she resisted me so shows her level of feeling for you. The entire flight here, she fought up a storm, but I allowed her not the tiniest scrap of control. I couldn't afford to. It sickens me, knowing she tried to protect the spirit of the man who killed me just because he happens to occupy the body of a friend of yours. I admire her will and her love for you, but I simply cannot allow her to have her way. Now that I have forced her into complete submission, I am able to communicate with you calmly and without stress,"

She had turned to gaze out toward the opposite wall, but faced him again when she finished speaking for the moment. His eyes were wide and he instinctively moved back from her. Bianca sighed, " I understand it's a lot to process right now. Before I regale my story, I will confirm my words; my medium harbors a deep love for you. It's only natural for rivals to form bonds that outweigh mortal conduct and standards. She keeps silent out of concern for you, knowing that you are under such duress right now that any further stress may cause you to break down at long last. Being a vampire, she is probably used to being alone and likely understands that to reveal her true heart would only cause undue grief in the end, so she buried it deep within the confines of her mind where I eventually discovered it. So now you know, and I'm judging that from the way you're looking at me, you already suspected this to be fact. Either someone told you, or you perchance even hold a secret love for her as well, maybe even both. In any case, you don't seem too terribly surprised, so I'll continue,"

She shifted positions, clearing her throat, "I'll have you know that during my lifetime, I served as a disconnected priestess to God, traversing the land to purify the hearts of men and women by speaking his word to the people. You should be aware that Bianca Kobel is also not my true name,"

Still somewhat stunned, Anderson frowned, "Sae then...what is it?"

"I'll keep that a secret for now. I selected Bianca because it means 'pure'. Kobel was the ancient name of a gem, now called Topaz. So ancient was the name that no human recording of it was ever discovered,"

"Sae how dae ye knoo o' it?"

"It's a long story. I changed my name to Bianca Kobel, traveling aimlessly carrying nothing but a small silver crucifix I received as a gift while on my journey. For the most part, I was all alone, wandering the countryside by myself,"

"Wait," Anderson said, "When Ah spoke t' ye befaur, ye always mentioned that someone was killed alongside ye,"

Bianca's expression grew wistful, "Tis true," she said, "Someone very precious to me was murdered right before my eyes. But you're forcing me to jump ahead in my tale. First, you should know that traveling through Wallachia, I discovered that the economical state of this country at the time was in shambles and more and more people were siding with their instincts to survive rather than a solid belief in God. I found my work was cut out for me at the time. However, traveling alone through the Carpathians was a decision at best, daft and at worst, deadly. Fortunately, I survived to tell this tale, but at great cost,"

"What cost?" Anderson asked. Bianca's eyes took on an eerily sinister gleam, glistening with a hatred and fury so strong, Anderson could almost feel it in the air.

"I was set upon by bandits," she hissed.

/ooo/

_The female servant assigned to the unfortunate woman reported that she had indeed awoken, but that she seemed to be in a state of suspension, not really accepting the reality that she was indeed alive. _

_ "My lord, perhaps it's best to leave her be," she said when he made to approach the door to her room. He turned, "Rest assured, I do not intend to cause her harm. There is something I am curious about. Has she eaten?" _

_ "I brought her some stew, but she hasn't eaten it," _

_ He frowned, "Very well. You are dismissed for the time being," _

_ He opened the door and stepped inside, turning his gaze to the bed in the corner where she lay, seemingly asleep. He'd ordered that she be given fresh clothing and time alone to recover. She'd already been within his castle for over a day and a half. She hadn't said a word to anyone. _

_ He approached, but kept his distance. If she awoke and noticed him, the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He took this time to study her. She appeared to be in her late teens, early twenties, perhaps a few years younger than him, even. Her hair was long, reaching clear down her back and positioned beside her by the servant, lest she pull it in her sleep. It was as black as the night sky, standing out starkly against the white blanket covering her. Her hands, in sharp contrast to the rest of her skin, were somewhat weathered-looking and appeared worn, like an old woman's. This suggested to him that she spent a good deal of time working with them. Her skin, though still pale, retained a fair amount of coloring from the sun, hinting time spent outdoors. Around her neck, he spotted a silver chain that likely bore a crucifix. He'd done some reading and, but was unable to discern what nation her strange clothing came from; a white cloak and dark gray robes that he'd never seen before. There was no clear indication of what her race might be, so until she awoke and told him herself, he could only guess. And then there was the little matter of what he'd seen the day he found her. He hadn't mentioned it to his men, and for good reason. If anyone else besides the trustworthy old servant assigned to her found out, she'd likely either be killed or incarcerated by the church. _

_ He looked up in surprise as she began to stir, moaning in her sleep and eyes squinting as they slowly opened to gaze out the window beside the bed. She blinked once, a confused glaze replacing sleep in her brilliant green eyes. _

_ "Wh...where am I?" she whispered. She seemed to sense she was being watched and turned to face him. Instantly, her eyes went wide in horror and she bolted up, scooting back against the wall, "No, no stay away! Don't come near me!" she cried in terror. He nodded, and took a step backward as if to show her he meant her no harm, "Please calm yourself," he said gently, "You are safe, here," _

_ "Who are you?" she demanded to know. Despite being asleep and severely shocked upon arriving, she showed a surprising amount of force. _

_ "I apologize for startling you," he said, dodging her question, "I discovered you the day before yesterday. You were lying on the ground as though dead. Beside you were the bodies of two men, whom I believe were bandits," _

_ She looked away, eyes flitting back and forth as she pieced together her memories. She drew a deep breath as it returned to her in a wave, "T-That's right," she stammered, "I was attacked in the mountains. They forced me along with them. I...I was...I was..." _

_ She shrank into a trembling ball, compressed sobs of terror wracking her body. This show of despair confirmed his grim suspicions. She had indeed been raped by those monsters. _

_ "You need not worry," he said calmly, "You are safe here. I shall see to it that you are taken care of while you recover," _

_ He knew that words were an empty comfort right now. He also knew that she'd probably carry this trauma for years to come. The thought of people like those bandits who lived for the sport of slaughtering needlessly and who preyed upon innocent young women like this sickened him. It was hard to believe that they dared to call themselves human beings. _

_ "I shall leave you to rest," he said. He turned to go, but paused when he heard a small sound like a bird behind him. He glanced back curiously. She was sitting up, still curled into a tight ball, her tear-streaked face partially hidden behind her folded arms as she watched him blankly, "W-Who are you?" she stammered. _

_ He smiled, "My full name is not important, now," he said, "However, you may call me Vlad," _

_ And with that, he quietly left the room. _


	23. Twenty Two

A/N: God's Demonic Messenger pointed out several continuity errors so I went back and fixed what I could. Hope it sounds better, although I seriously need feedback. If I don't know what I'm doing wrong, I won't learn. Reviews are a morale booster, but oh well. I still enjoy writing.

Twenty-Two

"I was foolish and chose to take the shortest path through the mountains by avoiding the main roads. Aside from that, I also chose to travel by my lonesome. Hence, I was wholly unprepared for what occurred,"

Bianca appeared extremely bitter. It was understandable. She sighed, "I had only a tree branch I'd picked up as a walking stick for a weapon. My spiritual powers were great, but I needed time to focus them, a luxury I wasn't afforded by the time I realized it was too late. They jumped from the trees and I was forced into submission. They realized I was a priestess and I could sense misgivings arising from some of them. It was clear they believed that by attacking a servant of God, they'd damn themselves in the process. Had those same misgivings spread throughout the group, I might have survived the ordeal with little more than mild bruising. However, their leader and his direct cohorts were not so pious. In fact, one of his immediate henchmen declared it to be an interesting challenge keeping a priestess in capture. Their leader agreed,"

Her eyes became glazed with fury as the memories grew clearer in her mind. She paused in her story and clenched her fists until her knuckles went white.

Anderson frowned gravely, "Ye doon't need t' tell meh anything," he said.

"I appreciate your concern, however misguided it may be," Bianca said, "However, my story isn't over. While I was indeed forced along with them, it only grew serious when I attempted to escape. I was forced into submission and brutally attacked many times. Before I fell unconscious, I managed to kill two of that man's number, but not before I'd been completely devastated. I heard their cruel voices tormenting me even as I slipped in and out of consciousness. I remember seeing them examining the bodies of their dead and expressing disgust at my actions. I blacked out again and when I came to once more, the men were gone, replaced by wolves padding around the clearing, sniffing the bodies. One came close to me and lingered for many minutes, but did not attack. It turned instead to join its fellows devouring the bodies of the fallen bandits. I remember only seeing something rushing into my line of vision, scattering the wolves and then of being lifted off the ground and wrapped in something warm. From there, nothing remains, not until I awaken elsewhere,"

She paused again, seemingly gathering her thoughts.

Slightly disturbed by her story thus far, Anderson frowned, "Holding ae grudge aegainst the thieves who did this t' ye is understandable, Bianca. But Maxwell has nothin' t' dae with it,"

A sinister gleam entered her eyes she looked up at him, "Is that what you really think? You're sadly mistaken. Would you like to know the name of the leader of the bandits?" she asked casually. Anderson was almost afraid to hear it. She paid him no heed, "His name was Marku, and it was ultimately him who set in motion everything leading up to my speaking to you right this minute,"

Anderson felt his blood run cold. Marku was the strange alias Maxwell had used to sign that letter he sent when Marcus was killed! So Alucard's theory was right. Maxwell _was _involved because like Wynter, he too was a reincarnation of a figure from Bianca's past!

"Once I awoke," Bianca continued as though she hadn't just revealed a world-shattering secret, "I found that I'd been taken somewhere I didn't know. I was lying in a bed in some strange, cold place, the window next to me showing the same mountains where my fate had been decidedly changed. I could barely remember what happened, dismissing it as a dream at first and feeling false relief at the same time. I remember being somewhat asleep when the door to the room was opened and someone came in. This person said nothing, just seemingly waited. When I awoke and laid eyes on him, I was terrified at first, recalling my attack in faint images. He stood far away from me and assured me that I was safe. I don't remember much of what happened, but he said that I would be cared for while I recovered. When I asked who he was, he told me his name. He said that I could call him Vlad,"

Anderson's eyes widened, "Ye doon't mean..." he exclaimed, trailing off in disbelief. Bianca shrugged, "Whether it was him or not, the point of the matter is that he saved me. However, this was only the beginning. For me, things were about to get much worse,"

/ooo/

_Three days passed._

_ He'd made it a habit to check on her whenever he could. Adela, the servant assigned to watch over her, said that she often went an entire day without speaking. He was worried she'd withdraw into her mind and never again emerge. _

_ He found her sitting up and staring out the window, hair draped limply over her shoulder. Her eyes were glazed, not with sleep, but with the sense that she was deep in thought about something. To him, she seemed calm, almost too calm, perhaps. She looked up when she heard the door open, but she returned her gaze to the window immediately after. _

_ "Good morn," she said blandly. _

_ "Did you sleep?" he asked. _

_ "No," she answered. _

_ "Why not?" _

_ She clasped her hands together in her lap, her limbs shaking, "I see their faces. I continue to hear their voices. It...it's terrifying," she murmured. _

_ "I understand," he said, "Are you perchance feeling any better?" _

_ "I do not understand why you care," she said. While he was thankful that she seemed to have overcome her fear of him, her indifference was slightly off-putting. _

_ "I have, on occasion, been described as somewhat of a tyrant," he said, "However, it should be noted that my heart is not comprised completely of ice, or stone," _

_ She refused to look at him. She just gazed out the window at the countryside. _

_ "Are you...," she began slowly, "Are you, by chance, the ruler of this region? This is Wallachia, is it not?" _

_ "It is, and I am. If you are aware of that much, then my name should be a simple recollection," _

_ "I see. I know who you are, then. I came to this country to restore the dwindling faith in God. But it seems He has forsaken me," _

_ "God helps those who help themselves," he said mirthfully, "I tend to live in this manner," _

_ "Then am I perhaps damned? I could not help myself at all. I am no longer worthy of being called His servant," she muttered, bowing her head. _

_ "So you are in fact a priestess, I assume?" he ventured. She nodded limply, "I am, in that I used to be. But following this recent misfortune, I am no longer pure, and therefore, no longer worthy. My spiritual energy may fade and die," _

_ "You are not to blame," he told her, "God surely cannot find fault in you for being attacked and violated against your will," _

_ Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. She was still distraught. She calmly brushed them away and sighed, "Dignity is about the only remaining treasure I possess," she said ruefully. _

_ He chuckled, "If you wish for me to leave so you may preserve that dignity, I shall be happy to do so," he said, smiling. For the first time since he found her, he noticed a tiny smile form on her lips. But it was gone before it was ever really even there. He cleared his throat, "Adela has told me that you refuse to eat," he said. _

_ "Yes," she answered somewhat hesitantly, "I apologize, but I'm used to a rather unusual diet," _

_ "Enlighten me. Perhaps I can be of assistance," he said. She appeared highly flustered and didn't look at him as she replied, "I'm afraid that I consume raw meat as nourishment," she told him. _

_ He blinked in surprise, "I must say, that _is_ quite the unusual sustenance for a human. However, if that is what you're accustomed to eating, it's easily done. May I ask why, perhaps?" _

_ "I'm afraid I'd rather not say," _

_ "Very well. All people are entitled to their secrets. I beg your pardon, but may I at last ask your name?" _

_ She looked up at him in surprise and sighed, "Forgive me. You were gracious enough to surrender your own name and here you do not even know mine. I have several names, but please, call me Bianca," _

_ True to his word, he had a rabbit hunted down and cut into pieces. Because he was skeptical that Adela would accept a human consuming uncooked animal flesh with her usual silence, he decided to give it to Bianca himself. He had to admit, he was a bit surprised. Usually, when one pictured the consumption of raw meat, one would usually associate that with ravenous wolves tearing apart a carcass. But with Bianca, it was the exact opposite. She thanked him for the food and set to gently tearing it into little chunks, delicately putting one piece at a time in her mouth and chewing it slowly before eating another one. Her face showed no expression and he couldn't tell whether she even liked it or not. _

_ "I really hate to trouble anyone," she said suddenly, dejectedly, "You've been very kind to me; I don't want to be a burden," _

_ "I assure you, you aren't a burden. I brought you the meat myself because I fear the servants might believe you to be a demonic entity of some kind. Tell me, why do you take raw meat as food?" _

_ "I normally partake in whatever nourishment I can find while traveling. Leaf buds, carrion, herbs, and the like. I never usually eat fresh meat while amidst humans. But I've never known anything else. Are you saying that no other humans eat it?" _

_ "They cook it, first, if that is what you mean," he told her in amusement, "It's most unusual," _

_ "I apologize, my lord," she said, addressing him formally. He was relieved to see that she seemed to trust him a little. _

_ "Do not apologize, Bianca," _

_ "Thank you. I am grateful to you for your kindness, but I will leave by the coming full moon," she said. _

_ "That's only four days away," _

_ "Yes, and I promise to leave a blessing on your home as a token of my gratitude," _

_ He nodded once, "Thank you," he said, "Now, get some rest. You're still in poor shape," _

_ He turned and left the room, leaving her alone to resume recovering. He knew that she was in no condition to explain an answer to the question he had for her. He wanted to know exactly what it was that he saw that day. But he had to wait. After all, he had four more days and he'd ask her when she decided to leave then. _

/ooo/

"I was grateful for his assistance," Bianca said quietly, "But I knew that if I lingered, I'd put him and his entire household in grave danger. I found this out very soon,"

She appeared pensive, almost statuesque as she considered her coming train of thought. Anderson leaned against the wall on the opposite side, watching her patiently as she gathered her thoughts together. She sighed, "The next morning, I discovered that he'd somehow convinced Adela to bring me the fresh meat without question. As it turns out, she accepted more gracefully than we could have predicted. She told me that she'd seen many oddities in her forty years on earth, and that I was just another tally to that list, so to speak. Unsuspecting, I began to eat the food. However, within minutes of swallowing, I suddenly felt ill. I felt as though my insides were burning and I became very sick. Adela grew worried for me and tried to get me to drink some water, but I couldn't even keep that down. This went on for three days, until the morn of the day upon which I had declared I would be well enough to leave. By this time, a week had passed since I was assaulted. I was so weak, I could scarcely move. Vlad often voiced quiet concern to Adela while she cared for me. He suggested thin rice gruel, a substance he remembered his own mother using during his childhood. It struck me then that he quite possibly knew what was wrong. I had begun to suspect it myself by this point and my anxiety peaked as a result, though I did my best not to show it,"

She stopped talking, bowing her head and hiding her eyes. Anderson frowned concernedly, " Sae what was it?" he asked in a low voice. He too suspected the worst. Bianca raised her eyes and he was surprised to see that bloody tears were streaming down her face.

/ooo/

_"My god, no," Bianca whispered as he told her his suspicions. She began to shake viciously and curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her as she shook her head, "No, no this can't be," she exclaimed in broken sobs. Adela moved forward and grasped her shoulders, "Now, now, please calm yourself, Lady Bianca," she said, addressing her formally, which seemed a little sudden, "If you strain yourself, you'll hurt yourself and the child," _

_ Bianca shook her head as tears poured from her eyes, "No, this can't be. I cannot possibly be with child; I was raped!" _

_ "My lord," Adela said worriedly, turning to face him. He stepped forward from his place against the wall several feet away. He sighed, "Bianca, I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm quite certain you must have realized the possibility," _

_ Bianca continued to tremble in fear as she raised her head, "I did, my lord. But I was a priestess of God; this cannot happen! When I die, I surely will not be able to look my Lord in the eye! I'm so ashamed," _

_ "I have told you, Bianca, you are not to blame. You have done no wrong and God will forgive you. The time in which you served Him was spent virtuously and piously, and in His eyes, you must still be worthy of being His servant," _

_ His words had a soothing effect on Bianca, as she gradually began to calm down. Every couple of minutes, her body would jolt from a choked sob trapped in her throat and she clasped the blanket around her middle, squeezing the fabric hard, "This child," she whispered after a dreadfully long silence, "I should hate it, but...but I just...at the same time, I just...can't," _

_ Adela squeezed her shoulders comfortingly, "It's all right, Lady Bianca," she said gently, "Whether its creation was by the hand of God or by the Devil, it is still a precious life depending upon you for its birth. You and the child have done no wrong, and God will punish the monsters who committed this most heinous crime against you," _

_ Bianca just tightened her grip around the blanket covering her abdomen. Despite her bitterness toward Marku and his band for what they did to her, Vlad could already see a touch of motherly instinct arising in her. _

_ "It is settled," he said all of a sudden. Both Adela and Bianca looked up curiously. _

_ "What is settled, my lord?" Bianca asked. _

_ "Your plans have been altered, Bianca," he said, "I am a man of my honor and I cannot allow you to travel in such a vulnerable state. Protest all you like, but you shall remain here for the duration of your pregnancy and when the time comes, you can deliver your child in safety here. Adela, you will continue to care for her, will you not?" _

_ Adela bowed low, "Nothing would please me more, my lord," she said. _

_ "I'm glad to hear it. Bianca, please accept my hospitality," _

_ "But my lord, I cannot possibly. I do not wish to be a burden," Bianca said. _

_ " Do not argue with me, Bianca," _

_ She sighed, "Is there perhaps a way I could at least walk outside? I am simply unused to being locked indoors," _

_ "Certainly. However, you will be accompanied at all times by either a guard, Adela, or myself. Good day," he said pleasantly. He departed quickly before Bianca could protest further. She sighed and leaned back against the wall, "Such an odd twist of fate," she mumbled, "I'm suddenly under the protection of the lord of Wallachia," _

_ Adela chuckled, "My lady, our lord does have a reputation in these parts, a reputation I do not care to dwell on in your presence, if you don't mind too terribly much. However, it must be said that he has a very kind heart. You see, there is a reason he wishes you to be accompanied while outside in the near future," _

_ "Why, if I may?" Bianca asked. Adela appeared highly uncomfortable, "My lady, in the pursuit of protection for his people, execution of enemies and rivals is a common occurrence in the life of our lord. The particular methods he employs are rather gruesome. He may be concerned that seeing them may cause you to miscarry and so wishes to prevent such a tragedy by making certain you do not stray where you shouldn't," _

_ "I understand," Bianca said quietly, "I did not realize. But I suppose with the state that this country is in currently, I shouldn't be surprised that such things occur here," _

_ "You seem knowledgeable, Lady Bianca," Adela said with a touch of admiration. Bianca hummed, "Yes, for you see, I came to this country because faith in God is dwindling. I came hoping to purify the hearts of the people here," _

_ "And here you are, concerning yourself to the point of sickness that God has forsaken you," Adela said mirthfully, "Now then, onto other matters. Are you hungry?" _

_ "I am, but I cannot keep anything down," Bianca said helplessly. _

_ "Our lord is also knowledgeable, Lady Bianca. I'll take his suggestion of thin rice gruel and see if this helps you in any way. Rest assured, Lady Bianca, you can expect to deliver a healthy child come spring," _

_ "Please wait," Bianca said, halting Adela as she turned to leave. Adela paused, looking back, "Yes, Lady Bianca?" _

_ Bianca hesitated, and then shook her head slowly, "It's all right; it was nothing," _

_ Adela smiled a wrinkled old smile, "Very well then. Try to rest, Lady Bianca. I shall return soon," _

_ She left, and Bianca was now alone. _

/ooo/

"I do not know what possessed me to agree to his terms, but the possibility of a safe delivery for my child was appealing, given my lifestyle," Bianca explained. She glanced up, frowning, "Am I boring you?" she asked.

Anderson shook his head, "Nae, ye're no'," he said, "But Ah have t' say, Ah find this a' hard t' believe,"

"I do as well, and I lived through it," Bianca said softly, "I spent the next several months existing as best I could, slowly feeling the life within me growing day by day and hour by hour. I became restless and often wandered outside, always watched closely by either a guard, or by Vlad himself. I always enjoyed speaking with him whenever he could find the time to converse idly. The year was around 1457, and the threat of war against a particular faction called the Ottomans was heavy, due to tense coexistence. Invasion seemed imminent and Vlad was often concerned by thoughts on the matter. I wasn't around to see it, though, so I won't go into details. By the time two months had passed, I knew that my secret couldn't be kept for much longer, though, and he was soon to notice,"

"What secret?" Anderson asked. Bianca folded her arms on her upraised knees, "Have you by chance ever heard of the legend of the Illmorein?" she asked. Anderson's eyes widened, "Ah read ae book on them no' two days ago," he said.

"Good, then you must have gotten to the part about how Illmorein people sacrificed youth for longevity, correct? An evolutionary trait that allowed them to live for centuries in exchange for their youth, which lasted only a decade at the most. There's also a certain added bonus for females alone. The sacrifice of youth and the longer lifespans affected unborn children as well. This allows for a shorter gestation period and a faster birth. What was once nine months for any Illmorein female was shortened to only six or seven months,"

"Ye're no' saying what Ah think ye are, right?" he said grimly.

Bianca just smiled slyly.

She shrugged.

/ooo/

_"I truly do enjoy the weather in this region. It's not too warm," Bianca said. _

_ "I've never noticed it," Vlad muttered, "Not surprising, really. You hail from arid country, do you not? Tell me, what are your views on our mountainous landscape?" _

_ "It's so beautiful. Up until this point, I'd never really taken the time to examine the mountains like this. I was so absorbed in my duties that I completely disregarded it," _

_ "I assure you, you will have plenty of time to admire their beauty. That being said, I'm sure you'd agree with me, given the circumstances," _

_ She turned around to gaze gratefully at his shadowed figure standing in the shade of the stone tower. She nodded once, wisely, "You're quite right. I cannot thank you enough for your help, my lord," _

_ "I am not so cruel that I would ignore a woman in evident distress," _

_ She smiled, "I know. And I thank you for it," _

_ "You're quite welcome,"_

_ "It is strange, though," she said, turning back to the horizon that could be seen through the gate from where she stood, "Why is it that I notice how beautiful the world is now, now that my world is about to change forever?" she said, wrapping her arms around her middle. _

_ "I believe that because you nearly lost that privilege, you realize how fortunate you truly are, Bianca," he told her gently. _

_ She sighed, "I still feel as though I'm nothing more than a burden to you. You've been so kind to me, a complete stranger and I can do nothing more than set a blessing for you," _

_ He smiled, "Bianca, I implore you to cease that ridiculous train of thought. You are hardly a burden," _

_ Bianca hummed, "And my lord, what of the affairs of your world? Tell me, is a resolution in sight?" she asked, turning to him. His face went grim and he frowned, staring down at the ground in thought, "No, Bianca," he said quietly, "I fear that we may be on the verge of war. Our economical state is still in shambles. I have taken a risk in limiting trade in our region to three merchant towns in the area, in the hopes of circulating the necessary funds more tightly through the people," _

_ "Which towns?" _

_ "Targsor, Campulung, and Targoviste. Their trade routes are viable and dependable. The goods they receive and export on a yearly basis should greatly benefit our state of affairs within the next few years in the least. However, this is no longer my main concern at present," _

_ "Something is weighing heavily on your mind, Vlad," Bianca said quietly, addressing him by name, something she only did when she was sure their conversation would not be overheard. She didn't want people to get the wrong idea about them; their growing relationship was strictly platonic. She referred to him by his title so as not to spark any unsightly rumors that would only serve to cause him further stress. _

_ He chuckled dryly, "As sharp as ever, Bianca," he said, placing his hand atop her head in an almost brotherly fashion, "You're correct. The Danesti have shown signs of unrest as of late. I'm concerned that they may attempt an invasion at some point to acquire our trade routes in retaliation to raids I have organized into their territory, " _

_ "I've been here a mere two months, Vlad, but I understand your rivalry with them. Perhaps it would be wise to take a defensive stance rather than risk a complete loss by charging into battle with them," _

_ "You could be right," he said, "I'm going to meet with my advisers this evening. Bianca, perhaps you should sit in on the meeting. I value your wisdom; it far exceeds that of many of my own advisers," he said with a chuckle. _

_ Bianca smiled and shook her head, "No," she said, "I appreciate the offer, but I'm content preparing for a very important assignment I'm soon to receive," she explained. _

_ "I understand," he said. Bianca nodded and bowed lightly as she turned to leave. Before she got too far away, however, she turned back to him, "Vlad?" she said quietly, "There is something important I feel I must tell you. Please come speak to me later?" _

_ "Very well," he said, "I shall see you then," _

_ Bianca smiled and headed off, deep in thought. _

_ True to his word, that evening, he went to visit her as he often did. She was highly intelligent and they often engaged in conversation and debate over the various states of affairs in the world at the moment. He found her to be a worthy adversary in the art of communication. He was sorry to see it end when she finally gave birth to her child and decided to leave eventually. She was convinced she was a burden to him, but he knew that wasn't true. He accepted her profound knowledge as payment enough for allowing her to stay. _

_ He found her lying in bed, apparently recovering from a nervous spell. She'd been suffering from anxiety for several weeks, fears that she would lose the baby. But she sat up when he approached and took a seat at the foot of the bed. _

_ "Good evening," she greeted calmly. _

_ "Are you well?" he asked. _

_ "Yes, I'm quite fine. Just nervous. It'll pass quickly," she answered quietly, "Vlad, there will be no one to overhear us, correct?" _

_ "Correct. I have made certain of it," he said. _

_ "Thank you, for what I am about to tell is highly important and a well-guarded secret. When I became a priestess, I was nearly turned away because of this secret, this curse and blessing I carry that often gets me into trouble with the very people I ally with," _

_ "The church?" he asked incredulously. She nodded, "Yes. I would like to show you something," _

_ She reached up behind her, one hand fumbling with the straps of the back of her gown, the other holding her gown in place at her breast. She released the ties and pulled her long hair over her shoulder as she turned so that she faced the window. He drew a quick breath in both shock and amazement as a pair of brilliantly white, feathered wings rose up from Bianca's back, unfolding from their compressed position and stretching out, slowly fanning the air just once and sending a gentle breeze across to him. _

_ "Those are...wings," he breathed in awe, "So I was correct after all,"_

_ "Yes," she said, "Wings. I gather from your reaction that you must have glimpsed them the day you found me. I was terrified of you when I awoke because I knew that you knew my secret. In the past, humans have attempted to take advantage of me once they discovered it and I was almost always forced to kill them to silence them. For you see, Vlad," she said, turning back to face him, folding her wings delicately behind her like a bird would, "I am the last of my kind, the last remaining Illmorein alive on this earth," _

/ooo/

"Ah'll take ae gamble here and guess at what yer true name is, Bianca," Anderson grumbled.

"I'd rather you didn't. If you already suspect you know one of my names, then that shall serve as proof that you have indeed heard of me,"

"Sae why did ye choose t' show him, knooing full well he could well have turned on ye and ye'd have had t' kill him, too?"

"I trusted him, Anderson," Bianca said with a shrug, "My greatest secret, exposed. I knew that without trust, I could never tell a living soul. There was another very important reason I told him this. As I expected, he showed concern to match my own. I became aware of the possibility that Marku and his band would discover my secret. I became deathly afraid that they would come to take the child away or worse, kill it. As deeply as I despised them, I was unable to keep myself from loving that child with all my heart," she said fondly, seemingly sinking back into her memories. She sighed, "Of course, I knew that my child would quite possibly be born with wings just like mine. I was forced to voice these concerns to Vlad,"

/ooo/

_"Tell me, Bianca, who are the Illmorein?" he asked. _

_ "An ancient race of winged people who have coexisted with the humans for aeons," Bianca answered quietly, "At least, until recently, that is. I come from lands far to the north. They have a short summer and a long winter. My home is in a world of silver deep within the mountains where I was born. I do not remember them, though, for after my birth, my clan migrated south to desert regions where we would be safe from human hunters for a time. It is here where I spent my youth. My parents were the Shanti and Masti, or lead male and female of the Flight. There used to be hundreds of thousands of us in existence, but hunting by humans had driven us to the point of extinction. Only our number of over a hundred remained. With my birth came a new hope that I, as the princess, or Miista, would lead our tribe into a new life. My mother, Lark, died giving birth to me and I was thus raised solely by my father, Falcon. Because of my white wings, I was seen as a miracle on our clan," _

_ "So your parents shared the names of birds?" Vlad ventured. _

_ "Illmorein tradition. It is as old as our very breed. The tradition is to name a newborn child after the first bird seen after birth. Sometimes, a baby will go days or even weeks without a name until a bird is seen. Our migratory routes allowed for many varieties of names in many variations, so there was little overlapping. I too have a bird name, but with the death of our clan, I abandoned it for my own protection. Warring factions from the south and west invaded our territory some seventy years ago and my entire clan was slaughtered. I alone survived when my father pushed me deep into a crevice in the side of the mountain and he and three others rolled a large stone in place to keep me hidden. From there, I heard the dying screams of my people as the humans desecrated our sacred lands. Our goddess had forsaken us, so I developed a deep hatred for her and abandoned her along with my heritage. I keep my wings hidden in order to preserve my legacy," _

_ He frowned, "You say your clan was devastated over seventy years ago, Bianca. How can this be true when you're still so young?" _

_ She smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, Vlad. I forgot to tell you. My kind, over the years, sacrificed youth for longevity. I'm over a hundred years of age and still an adolescent. Our lifespans could reach up to a thousand if we were careful with it," _

_ She folded her hands across her middle, "And now, with the coming birth of my child, I have begun to harbor a faint hope that perhaps, I can save my people. If my child is born with wings like mine, the Illmorein may yet live on," _

_ He smiled faintly at her quiet enthusiasm, "Bianca, would you tell me what your true name was?" he asked. She looked up in slight surprise, but nodded once, "Of course, I'd be happy to," she said, "As an Illmorein, I was supposed to have been named after the first bird seen at my birth. But my father was so driven by grief over the death of my mother that he broke tradition and, with the appearance of but a single songbird, gave me this name; Larka Sanoe Nightingale, meaning Nightingale, Daughter of Lark," _

_ "Nightingale," he repeated, "A very lovely and unusual name. It's a shame you are unable to use it," _

_ "It is. I deny myself my heritage to protect the memory my people. It is all for the good of my clan. However...," she mumbled, glancing off to the side. She hesitated before continuing, meekly meeting his gaze, "Vlad, I must be assured that you will never reveal what I really am. There are existing records of me kept by the church. They seek to destroy me. They killed the priest who protected me. He was the only one who truly believed that I was not a demon, but a blessing sent by God to dispel evil in the hearts of people. He was always very kind to me and I cared greatly for him. He taught me to love God faithfully, to always follow his teachings on my journey. He's the one who presented me with the silver crucifix I wear. I showed him my wings and he vowed to keep my secret, but somehow, it escaped. He sacrificed himself to allow me to flee from that place. I cannot let his noble intentions go in vain," _

_ "Please calm yourself, Bianca," he said, "I will never reveal your secret. I shall carry it to my grave," _

_ She sighed in relief, "That's good to know," she said. _

_ They fell silent and he frowned in thought as an idea came to mind. He looked up at her as she gazed ponderously out the window. _

_ "Bianca, I have a proposal for you," he said. _

_ "Yes?" _

_ "Would you enter into a blood pact with me? In this manner, I will keep your secrets, and you, mine. Such a pact as blood siblings would swear to each other eternal loyalty without fear of betrayal," _

_ Bianca's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded once, grimly, "Yes," she said quietly, "I have heard of this practice among humans. So long as I carry your blood, I shall never betray you," _

_ He unsheathed his sword, bringing the hilt up to hand it off to her. Without hesitating, she took the blade from him and deftly drew the sharp edge across her wrist, opening a fair-sized gash. She handed the weapon back to him and he did the same, sheathing the blade once again. He reached across and clasped her hand against his own, allowing their blood to mingle freely as he met her gaze, "From this moment onward, Bianca, you are my sister, and I, your brother. I will always stand by your side and protect you and your unborn child. Your secrets will remain guarded without fear of treachery so long as I live," _

_ "My new found brother, I swear to always stand ready to assist you in any way I can, to support whatever decision life may present to you in any form it may take. I shall offer wisdom to assist you in becoming a great ruler, as your blood sister," _

_ No witness was present to witness the newly formed bond, none save for the new moon hanging in the darkened sky high above the land. _

/ooo/

"Sae Ah was right after a'," Anderson muttered, "Ye _are_ the last Illmorein,"

"I'm surprised that you believe my tale," Bianca said, "I'm also surprised that Vlad believed it. He became my brother to protect me. I know not why he felt compelled to help me, but whatever the reason, I truly am grateful,"

"Sae then what? Yer secret's oot, ye're still stuck in Wallachia, what then?"

Bianca smiled sadly, "What else? My time finally came,"

/ooo/

_The birth was incredibly difficult. _

_ She went into labor just after sundown precisely a half-year since her arrival. Bianca's body was small, and so the process was long and arduous. Six months had passed since her attack. He understood why it was so early from what she'd told him. But both Adela and the midwife figured that the baby wouldn't last the night if it even survived the birth.. _

_ He wasn't permitted to be with his sister during the process, but he hovered close by, remaining calm as best he could. Bianca had been struggling well over a day by this point. She was exhausted and drained, yet she continued to fight. _

_ Finally, on the eve of the second day, he sensed her struggles at an end and knew that it was finally over. At the same time, he heard the telltale sound of a newborn baby wailing, as well as the terrified screaming of the midwife. He hedged an educated guess that the baby was probably born with wings just as Bianca had hoped. However, he gasped lightly when he heard Bianca suddenly begin to scream wildly: "No! No, give me my baby! Don't! Please, don't! I beg of you!" _

_ Ignoring the age old rules, he rushed inside the room to find Bianca lying on the floor covered with blood and the midwife's shaking hands holding the newborn baby over the fire in the hearth, murmuring a prayer as she prepared to drop it into the flames while it continued to cry for its mother. He flew forward and snatched her arm, pushing her back away from the hearth and grabbing the infant away from her at the same time. She continued to cower and shake, pointing a trembling, gnarled old hand at the infant, "Devil! Devil!" she moaned, free hand clawing at her eyes, "It's a devil's child! A devil's child!" _

_ He glanced down at the infant concernedly. Visibly, there was nothing seriously abnormal about it. He saw that it was an ordinary, tiny little baby girl, smaller than average, but clearly healthy, and still crying for Bianca. However, as she squirmed around, she shifted in his arm and he caught a glimpse of her back. Plastered to her skin, he saw what looked like filmy patches seemingly blood-filled and connected directly below her shoulders. Were those the wings? _

_ "Calm yourself this instant," he instructed the midwife firmly. She'd sunk to the floor, babbling a prayer in another language as she looked up at him in horror. _

_ "My l-lord, that is a devil's child! It must be destroyed!" _

_ "You are terribly wrong, I'm afraid. This is nothing more than a birthmark. I hope you realize that you almost murdered an innocent human babe," _

_ The midwife didn't appear convinced. He sighed and saw that Adela, seemingly more level-headed but clearly in shock over the midwife's actions, was still in the room. He motioned her over and bade her take the woman away, but not to allow anyone to see her for the time being. _

_ When the door closed, he turned to Bianca, sitting on the floor in her blood-soaked gown, gazing up at him with a mixture of terror and gratitude on her face. _

_ "Thank you, brother," she whispered. He moved to kneel before her, handing her her child. She took the baby gently and hugged her tightly, sobbing quietly. The infant instantly quieted, sensing its mother's touch. He gently helped her back onto the bed and she lay down on her side, hugging her child close to her, tears still streaming down her face._

_ "I shall take leave for a short while," he told her, "Your daughter is likely famished," _

_ "Thank you," she said. He stood up and left the room, closing the door and leaning against the wall outside while he waited. He'd known the midwife would likely react badly to Bianca's child, but he hadn't expected her to try and purify it. He decided he should either think about how to placate her, or to possibly send her far away somewhere. He certainly didn't want to kill her in order to keep Bianca's secret, but if worst came to worst, then..._

_ A short time passed and gradually, he heard her call that it was okay to return. He reentered the room and found her sitting up on the bed, cradling her daughter swathed in blankets at her breast. The girl had drifted into sleep. _

_ "Sister," he greeted, "She is a fine child. You did well," _

_ "Thank you, brother. She has survived and owes her life to you," _

_ "No thanks are required, Bianca. Now then, the time has arrived for you to bestow upon her a name," _

_ "I was thinking about that very matter. It breaks my heart, but I must abandon Illmorein tradition for now. I cannot give her a bird name; it would be quite obvious. While traveling, I recall hearing a name that I believed was probably the most beautiful I have known. She is a beautiful baby and thank the Heavens, she looks nothing like...like him," she said with distaste. She sighed and shook it off, unraveling the blanket just enough for him to see her back. _

_ "These patches," she explained, "Are in reality her wings. If they were feathered and developed upon delivery, the birth would always be exceedingly more difficult than it already is. Within a day or two, they will break the skin and erupt while the flesh is still tender. For the first year, they will be covered in down, like birds and gradually, they will grow with her, developing the adult feathers and expanding in size until full length by adolescence. She will remain an infant for a little under a year. By this time next year, she will be walking and possibly even speaking. In two years' time, she will be the size of a ten year-old child, and in five years' time, she will be near adult, as I am. She will then cease growing for another several decades, as I have. This is how we progress, brother. And this is why I must leave very soon, now," she said sadly, stroking her daughter's jet black hair. _

_ "Traveling with a newborn infant is hardly wise, Bianca," he admonished. _

_ "True, but you must see the situation for what it really is," she said, "Her growth rate will undoubtedly cause suspicions to rise amongst your people. Once her wings come in, she will want to begin testing their measure and nothing I do will stop her. This is why our best chance is to retreat deep into the mountains where we will not be disturbed. I do not want to cause you any more trouble, brother," _

_ He sighed, knowing she was correct. _

_ "I shall always remain your sister, Vlad," she said gently. _

_ "And I shall always remain your brother. Nothing changes, Bianca," he answered, "Now then, tell me what her name will be," _

_ Bianca gazed down fondly at her daughter, sleeping peacefully in her arms. At the same moment, they heard a bird call echoing into the dying day and looked out the window in time to see an Osprey wheeling off toward the mountains on wings as swift as the wind. Bianca smiled sadly, "Her name will be Saara," she said. _

A/N: I love Wynter and I don't want her story to end. But I learned the hard way with Saeka that to drag a story out too long ruins it, and ten books should have been enough to show me that. So instead, I'm resurrecting her into my novel, _Letters From Dracula. _This way, I get to keep working with her.


	24. Twenty Three

A/N: Where the heck is everyone? Is my writing getting sloppy or something? This is rather discouraging.

Twenty-Three

"Saara," Anderson said, "Tha' name sounds familiar,"

"It should," Bianca said, "After all, in a moment of grief, I may have mentioned it before. Saara, the name of my little girl, my precious baby daughter, murdered right before my eyes,"

"Sae that's who ye were talking aboot," he muttered, "Ah had mah suspicions, but..."

Bianca shook her head, "Never you mind. Remember, everything I say happened over five hundred years ago. I am long dead; clearly I was unable to defend the sacred Illmorein bloodline. My kind has died out...almost,"

"What does 'almost' mean?"

Rather than reply, Bianca smirked and unfolded her wings, Wynter's wings. She tucked them back down again and shrugged cryptically. Anderson frowned, "Sae what ye're sayin' is that Wynter being reincarnated is yer oon attempt t' restore the Illmorein race t' this world?" he ventured.

"Correct, and incorrect. My story is not quite finished, Anderson, and I will soon have my vengeance, the one force that keeps my spirit tied to this earth. It's only a matter of time," she said with a leer.

/ooo/

Everyone could only stare in amazement as Alucard concluded his tale, adjusting his glasses as he continued to gaze outside.

"Bianca departed soon after," he said, "A full year had passed since I discovered her lying in the forest near death. By this time, Saara was able to walk on her own, as she predicted and also as she foretold, was discovering the use of her wings, having erupted three days exactly following her birth, colored as white as newly fallen snow exactly like Bianca's. It became quite dangerous for the two of them to remain, so we bid each other farewell. From that point on, I've no inclination as to what sort of fate Bianca suffered at Marku's hands. The only thing I can be certain of is that he was the one responsible for instigating her murder. I sensed her death the moment it occurred and I knew instinctively that Saara had perished as well. Now it seems, at least one of them has returned," he concluded ponderously.

No one moved to speak first once he'd finally finished. No one had expected to hear the entire story.

"So that's why she despises Marku," Seras said at last, "He's been reborn as Enrico Maxwell. In order to get revenge, Bianca will force Wynter to kill him,"

"Which is problematic, considering Marku and Maxwell are two separate people," Alucard said, "It doesn't matter whose spirit Maxwell possesses; he is a person all his own and is likely resisting Marku's control, just as Wynter is. He cannot help the fact that he was born with Marku's spirit and Bianca realistically has no right to fault him for this," he said darkly.

"My question is," Integra said, "Why did Marku return? There was nothing he had yet to accomplish in this world,"

"My guess would be that Bianca's spiritual powers faded over time and she began using somewhat..._questionable_ abilities in order to protect herself. Black magic, as they say," he said with a morbid chuckle, " She probably chained his spirit to earth with some kind of dark curse. While she seeks him out in order to destroy him, he seeks to protect himself by distracting us from the real goal. He may have planted a subconscious action into Maxwell's mind by instructing him to create the twins as nothing more than a diversion. The twins may even possess a small fragment of Marku's spirit and that could very well be the only thing keeping them alive through the harsh transformation,"

Integra drew a sharp breath, "Then that means that the twins are nothing more than walking dead, soulless dolls," she exclaimed, "It's no wonder they obey Maxwell without question; they are a part of his own corrupted spirit,"

"Exactly," Walter continued, "And this means that the only way to destroy the twins..." he trailed off at the inevitable answer.

"Would be to terminate the host," Alucard finished for him, "A typical tactic used against vampires. Very clever, very devious,"

"So that means that Anderson always was, and still is the only survivor of that technology, because the twins have really been dead this entire time," Integra muttered.

"So what can we do, now?" Sasha asked frantically, "Wynter could be suffering right now! We have to help her! I can't just sit by and wait!"

"You may have to," Integra muttered, "If we were to go into Rome now, we'd only be igniting a religious war. The treaties are already under tension. Anymore stress and we could very well find ourselves staring down a line of soldiers and professional mercenaries armed to the teeth with holy weapons. All we can do is stand our ground and expect to see them return soon," she said.

"But," Sasha protested.

"Wynter's strong," Alucard said, "I'd always known she would be, even when she was human and clearly dying. I recognized my sister in her. Wynter has suffered throughout both of her lives and now is no different. She'll emerge victorious just as she always does, and always will do. She is of my blood, after all," he said with a grin.

/ooo/

Bianca shifted her position and yawned, "There is more I would like to say, but I'm very tired," she said.

"Wait, ye did'nae mention Marku. Wha' happened, Bianca?" Anderson protested.

"I also neglected to mention that our time is drawing to a close," Bianca added casually, "I'll tell you the rest of my story another time, the details of my murder, that is, and the murder of my child," she hissed, "In the meantime, I should probably release my medium. Keeping her subdued is very taxing on both of us. If you were to accept her as she is, she'd be a powerful ally,"

"She's ae vampire, Bianca," Anderson growled. Bianca shrugged, "Her species makes no difference. Humans and vampires are, in reality, very similar beings. But it's only natural for humans to mistrust what they fail to understand. I made that same mistake myself on occasion. Now, since I can sense the situation beginning to change, probably for the worst, I recommend exchanging a final goodbye with my medium. I suggest making it count. Farewell," she chimed. Before he could stop her, her eyes closed and she fell limp, toppling over onto the hard ground as she released Wynter at last. Anderson sighed and stared at the unconscious form of the vampire lying on the floor.

Gradually, she began to show signs of awakening, her fist clenching as she moaned in her sleep. She opened her eyes wearily, trying to focus. She pushed herself to a kneeling position and groaned, "Ugh, what the hell?" she muttered. She glanced up at him, sitting against the wall several feet away, watching over over the frames of his glasses.

"It's aboot time ye awoke," he mumbled.

"Yeah, about that. What happened to me exactly? I remember going to sleep, but I feel sick to my stomach,"

He looked away, "Well, aside from learning ae bit more aboout Bianca's past than Ah'd really expected t' learn, Ah found oot ae few other things as well," he said somewhat distastefully. Wynter's eyes flickered apprehensively, "Like what?" she said cautiously, "Don't tell me Bianca went and probed my mind while I was asleep. I've got a whole slew of things I'd hate for her to figure out,"

"Ah wonnae get mah hopes up, if Ah were ye," he said in reference to that, meaning her worries were founded. He hesitated before continuing, recalling what Bianca had said in terms of one thing he'd ever think of admitting, even to himself. His eyes narrowed, "Ah also doon't need yer concern, vampire," he snapped.

"Concern? But I—oh," Wynter said, suddenly realizing what Bianca must have told him. Her steady grip on her emotions kept her from getting flustered, especially since she'd never planned on ever mentioning it out loud in the first place. She just turned and faced the other way, staring at the ground, "I see. So she told you, then?"

"Aye, she did,"

"Well, I apologize," she muttered, "If it helps any, I'd never intended for you to find out. It's...it's not really something I'm proud of,"

He suddenly felt strangely hypocritical.

"If I could do things over...I would have probably followed him," she said after a few minutes. Anderson frowned in confusion, "Followed who?" he asked.

"Tobias. If I had followed him in death, we wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be troubled with the pain of possibly forgetting what his voice sounded like. I wouldn't be fighting for a similar sake,"

"What dae ye mean?"

Wynter cast a slight look back, eyes narrowed, "You really are a good person. I don't know what, or why, but there's something about you that's very reassuring," she said quietly, "Somehow, when I was around you, I was able to forgive myself ever so slightly for what happened to him. In the least, the pain became bearable. I can never forget him, but your kind nature reminded me of him. I suppose I was drawn to that out of curiosity. And this is why I was always concerned about you, ever since you were driven away from Rome. No, maybe sometime before then, too. I always worried that you'd buried yourself in your zealous rages, too blind to see the forest for the trees. Unlike master, I can't stand seeing humans like you, humans so burned through and through with a hatred for my kind that they're barely human, anymore. I saw a faint hope that maybe you could be spared the eventual fate of all vampire hunters the day that you agreed to save Sasha. You spared my life even when I offered it to you in exchange for hers. You have a kind heart and you're slowly being eaten alive by your own rage,"

She turned back around, "I've seen it, you know. I've seen that the people you work with care about you as a friend, as a mentor, and as a father figure. Maxwell, whether he knows it or not, is trying to kill you and yet you're able to forgive him. To be perfectly honest, I'm envious. You will likely never be truly alone for as long as you live. But me..."

She just shook her head and ceased speaking. He knew what she was going to say. Vampires were always alone. Sure, she had the cabal and Sasha, but eventually, everyone would leave her, especially Sasha. In the end, she'd wind up all alone once again.

She suddenly started chuckling wryly, "I was so naïve when I met Tobias and developed a bond with him. I was selfish and agreed to his request for me to turn him. I thought he'd be with me forever, but in the end, he broke his promise and left me all the same. This is why you shouldn't kill us indiscriminately, Anderson," she said, "For those of us who can fully grasp our situation, just existing is torturous enough. Humanity never completely disappears. Heh, I shouldn't be such an idiot. I'm a hundred and fifty-four years old, I should know better," she said with a dry chuckle.

Much to his chagrin, he suddenly felt a strange surge of guilt for how he'd spoken to her. Looking at it from a different perspective, he supposed he understood. It was difficult to understand, but perhaps Bianca had had a point. What if, just what if, he also held a deep, secret and unnoticed...love for her as well? It seemed so incredibly foreign and strange, but once he attempted to grasp it, it didn't shock him much at all. After all, he'd spent a lot of time with her, whether he wanted to or not. He'd grown to understand her a little better as an individual, and not as a monster. And even though he was ashamed to admit it, her kindness toward him the day he'd arrived in London had actually been somewhat comforting once he'd had some time to dwell on it. In the end, was this the explanation for the constant uneasiness he'd been feeling? After all, both Wynter and Bianca had said that she never intended to reveal it at all. According to Bianca, it was because she was worried about him. He felt like he needed to confirm this.

"Wynter, hoo could ye alloo something like this t' occur in the first place?" he asked.

"We're always fighting, but you'd done nothing wrong. All of these upsets were bringing you closer and closer to the point where your mind would simply cease to function. If you were an ordinary human, you'd have broken long ago. You've held on this long, but I worried that you wouldn't last much longer. I just...I just wanted to help," she added quietly.

He felt a slight jab of gratitude all of a sudden. It was faint, but it was there. Suddenly, he found that at the moment, he felt more at peace with their situation. He sighed, "Come o'er here," he said, moving slightly to the side.

She glanced up curiously, but did as she was told and moved to sit beside him as she folded her knees up and rested her chin atop them, gazing out through the bars. She didn't look at him, he didn't look at her. It was a silent, mutual agreement to coexist peacefully before the possible fight for their lives. A human and a vampire, natural enemies, strangely found comfort in the others' presence. Once they were whittled down to two creatures awaiting a looming death sentence, it was no longer who was better, who was stronger, who was fated to be saved, or who wasn't.

"Hey," she mumbled, "Tell me, honestly. Do you think we're done for?"

"Ah cannae be certain, Wynter," he answered quietly, "Ah told ye mah request faur the debt, and Ah also promised t' kill ye mahself. Nae matter what happens, Ah'm keeping mah promise,"

"You're fortunate that I know you well enough to recognize the hidden meaning behind your jargon," she said with a small smile, "It's appreciated,"

He just grumbled something unintelligible in reply. Wynter smiled. He was trying to tell her that he wasn't going to allow her to suffer at the hands of Neo-Iscariot. He knew that he wanted to challenge her in a fight like he would any other vampire and drag it on as long as possible. However, he knew that they were both aware that tonight could very well be her last night on earth. If this were true, he was determined to be the one who ended it, but he'd cut his losses at that and kill her quickly...mercifully. Strangely, he seemed to be able to accept how much they'd been through. After all this, he just couldn't allow her to suffer. Whether it was his natural pride, or something else entirely, he just couldn't allow it.

He reached into the lining of his coat and pulled out a book of some kind, bracing it in his hand against his upraised knee as he flipped through the pages. Wynter eyed it curiously, "Is that a bible?" she asked.

"Aye. Ah carry it aroond faur reassurance,"

"I see. But I'm sensing something odd emanating off of it,"

"Ah believe it. It's been blessed wi' ae special property tha' allows meh t' travel o'er short distances. It's oony ae test piece, hooever, sae it's the oony one o' its kind. No' many people knoo o' it,"

Wynter eyed him incredulously, "So...you can essentially teleport,"

He cleared his throat, "Ah suppose ye could call it that," he muttered.

"I guess they let you keep it, then. If I'm really set to die here tonight, I suppose it could serve as an ironic eulogy, perhaps,"

Anderson still found it difficult to believe that she held faith in God like she claimed. Yet she had quoted the scriptures with no trouble, so his doubts had begun to melt. He cast occasional glances over at her sitting beside him, red eyes slightly dulled from fatigue and concealed worry. That old saying that the eyes were a window to a person's soul was basically true. Sure, she was a vampire, but she was now the unfortunate moth trapped in the spider's web, with the predator slowly drawing near, waiting to strike with a final, fatal blow. She could try to hide it all she wanted, but he'd still know.

She was scared.

He tried not to think of the possible ways they might try to kill her. Unlike many of the somewhat unpolished warriors of Section XIII, Anderson's style of fighting was precise and fluid, usually attacking on the mark the first or second time during a battle with that most hated species. Also, what worried him was the fact that they believed that if she wasn't the leader, then that she was heavily involved with the cabal of vampires in Bristol. While Anderson didn't care at all for the thought of a large group of these creatures existing alongside humans, he had to admit that they hadn't caused any trouble at all since their creation and coming to understand Wynter slightly made him wonder if maybe they should just be left alone until further notice. If Section XIII was serious about hunting them down, Wynter would likely be first severely interrogated for information which Anderson was completely certain they wouldn't get. Wynter was immensely protective of her companions.

He looked over at her again, expression lined with worry. He thought of the various methods used in such interrogations. Wynter's body was small; there was no way she'd be able to take it for very long, vampire or not. He knew she'd suffered for years at Arakwa's ancestor's hands and survived, but he sincerely doubted that they'd had any anti-vampire equipment handy. Iscariot had all the best weaponry currently available. His own bayonets were constructed out of the purest Macedonian silver and soaked for three days in holy water blessed by the Pope himself, making them some of the most potent weapons against vampires. All of this special artillery had only been perfected in the last few decades with the rise of vampire activity increasing again. There was no way that Wynter had ever come across most of it. He was sure that even she couldn't withstand Iscariot's might in such close proximity.

He felt her tense up suddenly beside him, the sound of her wings shuddering sending ominous echoes bouncing off the rock walls. Glancing over, he saw her eyes widen in sudden fear and could practically hear her heart pounding.

"You know something," she whispered shakily, "I'm sure you've thought that vampires fear almost nothing. Fear is a natural reaction to what you don't understand or what you know you can't fight. It's one of the few factors of humanity that vampires will always retain," she said, looking up at him with a nervous smile in an attempt to shrug it off, "So I guess I'm as human as I'm going to be right now,"

He heard the far off metallic clang at the same moment, signaling the arrival of their adversaries. It was time, now.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Anderson reflexively shifted to a defensive kneeling position, eyes trained on the door. In the dim light trailing in from the door to the awakening twilight world outside, he saw it as five humans appeared from the darkness, signature crucifixes glowing about their necks. He recognized the pair standing off a ways as Arnold and Douglas.

"What the—?" one of them exclaimed, "What happened to the wall?"

"What do you mean 'what happened'? This is a two-thousand year-old prison cell; it collapsed as two-thousand year-old prison cells tend to do, you idiot. But what happened to that incense and what's the vampire doing in this cell?"

"Ah put it oot mahself," Anderson said quickly, "It was startin' t' give meh ae headache. As faur the vampire, haven't ye ever heard the saying 'keep yer friends close an' yer enemies closer'?" he said with a sly grin. It was a generic, albeit effective answer.

"I suppose that makes sense,"

Anderson had finally hit on whose voices these were. He knew four of the five people here. Aside from Arnold and Douglas, they were Winston McAvin, a Protestant-to-Catholic convert, and Samuel Jacobson, a former criminal who supposedly found God during a seven-year prison sentence. The third man, Anderson assumed was a recent transfer from another section of the Vatican's many factions. In the dim light, he could see that this newcomer was several years his junior, but he clearly emanated a cold, calculating aura. He had scraggly, slightly long brown hair and fierce gray eyes that glowered into the darkness not at Anderson, but at Wynter, sitting frozen beside him.

"Hm," the man said, "I see that we probably should have allowed you to keep your weapons. You could have done our work for us. Oh well. Open the door," he barked.

"Yes sir," Arnold said quickly, hurrying forward and fumbling the key to the lock in the dimly lit space. Anderson wracked his brain for any sort of plan. He knew he needed to act fast and that hesitation was a luxury he couldn't afford. Wynter was doomed otherwise.

The man smiled in what he probably believed was a warm fashion, "Come on out, Father Anderson," he said, "I apologize for the inconvenience. Maxwell declared your immediate release from this dingy place,"

"Thank ye, kindly," Anderson said as he stepped out into the open, straightening up, "It was getting ae bit bland in there,"

"Understandable. Oh, forgive me, my name is Lucas,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed, "Hm, sae ye're Lucas, eh?" he said, remembering that name being mentioned. Now that he thought back, a new member had been introduced into Iscariot by that name about two months prior, but Anderson had never met him until now.

"Yes, I am. I transferred here from the Vatican's Information Bank in Hungary. I was told personally that my wisdom exceeds my age, so I was placed into the intelligence office here. I have orders today to..._retrieve_ some information from that vampire in there. Is she still alive?" he asked, peering into the darkness. A low rumble could be heard from within. Lucas' eyes widened slightly and he chuckled, "Well, I guess that answers my question," he said, "You too, please. Come out here,"

Anderson was surprised, to say the least. Lucas seemed merely amused by this creature, while the others all muttered and backed away as she approached the door and stepped out, standing up and calmly meeting his gaze. Her wings were visible and folded delicately behind her. Lucas raised an eyebrow curiously, "Well, I have to say, you look more like a fallen angel than a vampire," he said.

"And you look like a sorry vagrant the Vatican took pity on," Wynter said coldly. For the first time, Lucas appeared peeved. He quickly recomposed himself and cleared his throat, "I recommend learning when to hold your tongue, vampire," he said coolly, though the venom in his voice could hardly be missed, "It might just land you into some trouble,"

Wynter smirked, "Oh really? Well that might just be good for me," she said condescendingly.

"Don't you dare take me lightly, monster," Lucas snarled. Wynter just laughed, seemingly forgetting how scared she'd been previously. Anderson figured it was probably a well-constructed mask.

"Is that all you've got to say? Kids these days," Wynter muttered, "You should really show respect for your elders; I am old enough to be your grandmother, after all,"

She was toying with him, trying to make him slip up. Anderson knew the technique well. He'd used it himself on multiple occasions. Lucas was losing his composure and Wynter was gaining the upper hand. Her moment of fear had seemingly passed, and quickly at that. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting. Or perhaps...he thought as a sudden thought occurred to him, perhaps she...had something in mind.

"It's going to be a real pleasure extracting information from _you_," Lucas spat. He motioned Douglas forward, "You brought them, correct?"

"Uh," the young man stammered, "Well, not _all_ of them, no, but several of them, yes,"

"Give them to him,"

"Y-Yes sir,"

Douglas scurried over to Anderson with something wrapped in a tarp. Anderson recognized the shape instantly even before Douglas unwrapped them.

"Here's some of your weapons, Father Anderson," he said apologetically, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring them all. I'm not entirely sure how you manage them," he said, chuckling nervously.

Anderson took them carefully, the familiar sensation of battle kindling within him as he examined them blankly, not that there was anything in particular he'd look for. He frowned at Douglas and then at Lucas, "Sae what's this?" he asked.

"That is what we intended," Lucas said smugly, "Since you're the best hunter we've got, we figure you'll be able to help us get some answers from this creature. I'd heard somewhere that you've tried multiple times to kill her, correct?"

Anderson realized with a jolt what was going on. Lucas was going to have him 'interrogate' Wynter. In other words, inflict enough suffering that she'd reveal what she knew about the other vampires they were hunting and then he'd be the one to put her out of her misery. He found himself stuck. He'd promised Wynter that he wouldn't allow her to suffer at the hands of Iscariot, that when and if this time came, he'd pierce her heart and kill her quickly. But when he got right down to it, this is what he wanted to do; drag out her death and finally end her existence, just as he'd been craving to do for months, now. But this isn't exactly how he'd planned it. He'd hoped that she'd be able to put up a bit of a fight. However he knew that Lucas would likely bring out some other form of subduing her, such as the incense to which she held no viable defense. In the end, this wasn't what he wanted at all. He wanted to face off against an intelligent, skilled, and most importantly, powerful vampire.

He looked over at her, pretending to be scrutinizing his chances of success when in reality, he was trying to read her expression as to what she thought of this dangerous turn of events. Her face held no emotion whatsoever. Her eyes, however, seemed somewhat unsure. He couldn't readily tell what she was thinking, but somehow he knew that she was relying on him to make a decision for the both of them. She had little choice otherwise.

He had to think fast.

"So," Lucas said, barely hiding his irritation and rage at Wynter's taunting, "Do you understand?"

"Aye, Ah understand," Anderson said, "What dae ye want t' knoo from her?"

"There's a particular group of vampires congregating all across Rome at the moment. We have reason to believe that she is the leader,"

Both Anderson and Wynter frowned at him in curiosity. Wynter made a noise of disgust; "You have to be kidding, brat," she growled, "I am most certainly not their leader. They aren't even mine. They're Leroy's," she said with evident distaste.

"Who's Leroy?" Lucas asked suspiciously.

"Oh, not to worry, he's...shall we say, no longer around," Wynter purred, baring her fangs ominously. Everyone except Anderson backed away from her. Wynter eyed them in their fear and chuckled darkly, "I devoured him months ago. He's no longer a threat, but his little cronies are. They don't know that he's become a part of me and are likely searching for him where he was last sighted. Go right ahead and destroy them. I don't care,"

"You're bluffing,"

"No, actually, I'm not. Those same vampires attacked the orphanage where Father Anderson here works. I had nothing to do with their attack. I know nothing of these vampires, save for the fact that they're immature little kids out for a little two-bit fun,"

Lucas smirked, "Well then, perhaps you can tell us about England's sudden vampiric population,"

Wynter showed no expression, "I will admit to being _their_ leader, but you will get nothing from me," she said. Anderson knew she was lying. He also knew that Iscariot was aware that Marjorie was the true leader of Bristol's cabal. He assumed that Wynter was aware of this and figured that Lucas, being so new, didn't know this fact himself. She was counting on this in order to gain an edge. Since Anderson didn't approve of Lucas already, he hoped to God that her bluff worked. He knew he was resisting his own people, but the fact of the matter was that they were being controlled by Maxwell who had no idea what was going on. He'd given orders of this nature to Lucas, and Lucas was taking them very, very seriously. There was no telling what was going to happen.

"We'll see," Lucas said, "You may proceed, Anderson,"

This was it. Anderson had started formulating a back-up plan, in case Wynter's plan failed, which seemed likely. He flipped his weapons in his hands and took a step toward her. She watched him carefully, never moving. Behind her, she shuddered her wings, the sound ricocheting off the walls in an endless echo. He remembered what he'd told her; that he'd kill her quickly, going against every instinct he had concerning vampires. But as he drew near to inflict the first cut, he found it was becoming more difficult to continue. Was she using some kind of suggestive force to stay his hand? No, she wasn't. She would have had to make eye contact for that and she was refusing to. She shifted her eyes slightly to the left, avoiding direct eye contact with him.

"What's taking so long? Hurry up and do it!" Lucas barked.

There was no other choice. If he didn't do it, then they'd grow suspicious. Even though he'd made this promise to a vampire, Wynter was different somehow. His expression grew pained in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. He raised the blade up.

Suddenly, Wynter's wings snapped open and her dark feathers went flying. At the same time, a tremendous rush of wind whipped through the cavern, nearly knocking some of them off their feet. Lucas and the others were pushed back as they shielded their eyes from the gale. Through the noise, the sound of birds calling could be heard as a gigantic flock of black ravens swooped down out of nowhere, wings beating in erratic unison as they fell upon the unprepared humans.

"Anderson!"

He turned at the sound of his name through the ruckus, realizing that Wynter still stood amidst the confusion, her wings extended halfway out. Her eyes blazed in the darkness, "Hurry! Get us out of here while they're distracted! I can't keep this up forever!"

He realized with a jolt that the flurry of screaming ravens was nothing more than a flock of her familiars released in an instant. That explained why they avoided him and went straight for the others.

"Hurry!" she called again.

"Where the hell did all these birds come from!" they heard Lucas exclaim in rage. They also heard the dying cry of a raven as it was killed somehow. Wynter winced simultaneously and her wings twitched, "Anderson, _hurry_!"

He recalled that he'd told her about the unusual properties of the bible he carried that allowed him to essentially teleport over short distances. Ducking to avoid a swarm of ravens passing overhead, he stumbled over to where she stood, pushing her down to the ground as he flipped the book open. The wind tore across the pages in a frenzy, but they didn't rip. Instead, they seemed to fly straight from the book itself, surrounding them in a flurry of golden light, the funnel spinning faster and faster, shielding all else from view. Remembering that it wasn't an easy escape, he pulled her close against him and braced for the spine-jarring slam of wind that literally took them into its grasp, dragging them seemingly across space itself. The same moment they disappeared, so too did the ravens and the gust within the cavern, leaving Lucas and the others to stare in dumbfounded puzzlement at where they had been not seconds before.

"God damn it," Lucas hissed, clenching his fist in fury.

/ooo/

His concentration was off, so the landing was rough. The next thing he knew, there was a splitting pain shooting through his skull as he opened his eyes to find that they'd arrived in an alleyway somewhere he didn't recognize. Glancing around blearily, he noticed Wynter stirring beside him. Her limp wings folded up slowly, coming to rest perpendicularly across her back like a bird's.

"Jeez, that wasn't too fun," she muttered, looking up at him, "And you do that on a regular basis?"

"Ah normally travel by mahself, Wynter," he said, "Ye're actually the first t' come along,"

"I guess I should be honored, then," she grumbled, currently anything but, "But we got away, and that's the important thing,"

"Aye, but noo they'll knoo Ah helped ye," he said grimly, "Ah'm in faur it, noo,"

Wynter smiled reassuringly, "Actually, you're going to be fine," she said, "Everything went according to how I'd planned it, thankfully, which doesn't happen too often,"

Anderson fixed her with a bewildered stare, "What?"

"Allow me to explain. You told me that that bible allows you to traverse short distances in a pinch. Once I heard that, I started thinking. That's why I got so scared; I was afraid my plan wouldn't work. But when I saw what kind of person Lucas was, I realized there was no way it _couldn't_ work. I began taunting him as part of my strategy, hoping that he'd appoint you with the task of carrying out my interrogation. I needed to get you away from them, so when Lucas told you to attack me and you moved away from them toward me, all I had to do was wait until you got close enough. When I judged you were a good enough distance away, I released every raven familiar I possessed, blocking their vision. They couldn't see what you were doing and therefore, were unable to see that you'd used your own skills to take us away from there. With this in mind, they can only assume I used a similar power of my own and that I dragged you along with me, or that you chose to follow me in order to kill me. You're off clean, Anderson," she said cheerfully.

He could only stare in amazement. He had to admit, that plan was pretty impressive, especially considering the fact that it had worked.

"Ah'm starting t' think Ah dinnae give ye enough credit, Wynter," he said.

"You'll have time to dwell on that later. Right now, we need to figure out where we are so we can get back to England. As we are now, we're at a severe disadvantage against Marku and the twins. We need to take advantage of this while Bianca is asleep,"

"Right," he agreed, "Normally, Ah can tell where Ah end up, but mah concentration was off, sae Ah'm no' sure where we are,"

"I'm willing to hedge my bets that we're still in Rome," Wynter said. She pointed out toward the entrance to the alley. Rapid footsteps could be heard running down the street. They exchanged a quick, startled glance and both hurriedly moved out of sight. Wynter dove behind a trash can, Anderson behind a stack of crates.

"See them?"

"No! I think she got away. But what happened to Father Anderson?"

Anderson's eyes narrowed at the sound of Arnold and Douglas' voices. Wynter had been right after all.

"I'm sure he's fine. He must have gotten away," Douglas said.

"So where'd that vampire go?"

"I don't know, but we'd better keep looking. The entire city might get locked down if we don't find her,"

Arnold chuckled, "Oh sure, what are they gonna tell the people? A rabid vampire is loose in the city, keep your necks covered?" he joked.

"No, dork, they'll say it's a terrorist threat, duh! Come on, keep looking!"

They disappeared from earshot and Wynter sighed heavily, "Well, we've escaped this time, Anderson," she said, "But it's still not safe,"

"We need t' get oot o' here," he said, "Oor best bet is probably England,"

"You're right. Maxwell is still under Marku's control, but he likely has some will of his own. Otherwise, he'd have ordered you killed, rather than imprisoned," Wynter pointed out.

Anderson knew she had a point. It was barely comforting, but it was proof that Maxwell was fighting Marku's influence.

"And as long as Marku exists, Bianca will continue to thirst for his blood," Wynter continued, "We need to return to London for now, while we figure out a way to destroy the twins and get Marku out of Maxwell's head,"

Anderson looked over at her. She was staring intently at him, awaiting his response. She was right and he knew it. Even though Anderson's reputation as a hunter had been spared, he was still on the run. Maxwell spared him through a moment of revelation, but who knew if that would happen a second time? Until they could destroy Marku, the spirit residing within Maxwell would continue to see Anderson as a threat barring his way to destroying Bianca. Because Anderson had unwittingly served as Bianca's power source during her awakening, he too was placed in danger. Because most of Iscariot was in shambles and a state of dire confusion, he knew he could trust no one within the Vatican. He had no idea where his comrades were, including Heinkel and Yumie. Right now, the only one he could trust was...well, Wynter.

"It migh' take ae few days," he muttered, "But what we need t' dae righ' noo is get t' the station. We can board ae train t' the coast,"

Wynter nodded, "Okay. We need to hurry,"

In silent, mutual agreement, they both weighed the risks. They couldn't stay in Rome, it was far too dangerous. Right then, they were forced to prioritize returning to England. Narrowly escaping imprisonment, they were both fugitives, desperate to make it back to a single vale of safety.

A/N: This story's a little more than half done and I'm planning a special epilogue that I'll publish as a separate story from this. I'm even thinking of pulling a plotline idea from _Shikabane Hime_ and writing a little excerpt from Bianca's past into that one. I don't know. I know I'm stalling, but I'm okay with that.


	25. Twenty Four

A/N: I've finally begun work on my actual novels. But I seriously want to know where everyone went. Is it school or something. I understand. I'm in school myself, but I still make time to write. I just wish I knew what happened. It's kind of depressing. Anyway, this story's about half done, now. Not much further to go. I can't believe it's been over two years since I started writing this series.

Twenty-Four

By some miracle, they made their way onto the train bound for the port of France where their only mode of transport was a cargo ship bound for Bristol. It would be a day's journey and Wynter despaired over it the entire train ride, sitting beside him and biting her fingernails in her anxiety. Partly out of irritation, Anderson snatched her hands multiple times to stop her from fidgeting and biting.

"Come on, I regenerate in seconds," she hissed.

"That's no' the point; it's annoying,"

"Leave me alone. You're not the one who will have to stow away in a crate with a bag of French soil," she snapped in hushed tones.

"It's oon'y ae day, Wynter. Ye could make it fine wi'oot ae bag o' soil," he said.

"But I don't handle ships well," Wynter muttered.

"Ye'll be fine," he growled.

"But—"

He fixed her with a serious stare, "Wynter, Ah promise ye're going t' be fine,"

Her expression wrinkled in pent-up worry, but she leaned back in her seat and folded her hands in her lap over the bag that held her old clothes. While in Rome, she'd used some money she had with her to purchase a simple outfit in order to travel less conspicuously. Her outfit now consisted of a light purple cloth skirt and sandals with a plain white dress T-shirt and a wide-rimmed sunhat. Her flowing black hair had caught the attention of the store owner, who insisted rather forcefully that she braid it, so Wynter grudgingly consented. It now draped over her shoulder and trailed across her lap with a ribbon matching her skirt holding the ends together. She played with her braid absently.

Anderson hadn't recognized her at first when she came out of the shop, looking a little more than pleasantly peeved. Since she usually appeared morose and somewhat scary dressed either in solid black pants and long sleeved black shirt or that weird cloak and shawl, seeing her looking like any ordinary Italian girl threw him off guard slightly. He'd had to double check that it really _was_ her before revealing any information that would completely terrify a regular human. Even the occasional times he'd seen her wearing that white summer dress and matching hat, she'd still carried a bleak and dark aura about her behind her oddly cheerful outlook. Being outfitted so casually now just didn't seem normal for her. But strangely enough, it was a look she pulled off rather well. Just being plainly polite, he had to admit that she was rather beautiful. Being a vampire, he didn't suppose she took such things seriously. Since she couldn't remember her previous life as a noble, appearances clearly held little to no interest for her. It was a wonder she'd endured the braid this long.

"Sae what dae ye plan t' dae with those clothes ye bought?" he asked.

"I'll probably give them to Sasha or I'll donate them. I certainly have no use for things like this," Wynter grumbled, picking at her collar with distaste.

"Why no'?"

"Being dressed so...so...daintily like this makes me feel far too vulnerable. I can't stand it. I'm a powerful vampire; I shouldn't dress like some teenage girl,"

Anderson sighed and shook his head, "Wynter, faur a' appearances, that's exactly what ye look like," he grumbled.

"I hate looking so young. When Alucard turned me, I wish I'd been a little older and more refined. I wish I could have at least been in my early twenties, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, something like that. But I can't easily tell those idiots in my neighborhood that,"

"What's tha' supposed t' mean?"

"Now and then, I get dumb little offerings from boys in my area. Once in a while, I'll humor the poor sap. Then I'll always lay on that corny line "maybe we should just be friends", just at the moment that they think they're getting somewhere," she said with a grin. She chuckled, "Frail human minds are fun to mess with,"

"That's awfully cold," he pointed out blandly.

"True, but it's so much fun. Oh, don't give me that look; you mess with vampiric minds right before you slaughter them. The only difference is that I don't kill my victims. Besides, I really have to work at it to mess with you. You're not exactly the same as those poor, dumb dorks I tolerate. You're not nearly so easy to get to,"

"Thank the Lord faur that," Anderson muttered, "But it's t' be expected, Ah guess,"

"Why's that?"

"Ah'm ae good deal older than most o' those kids,"

"And that's probably why I enjoy your company. You're a mature individual that I can strike up a grasping conversation with. Your interests lie over many expanding horizons. Oh, that reminds me; how old _are_ you anyway? Since this so-called God given technology seemingly stops you from aging, you could be anywhere on the human lifespan,"

"Take ae guess," he said. She could have sworn that he was messing with her. She knowingly took the bait and frowned, studying him.

"Hmm," she said, "You look anywhere from your early to mid-thirties to early forties,"

"Ah took part in the military when Ah was twenty-eight," he said, "The implants took aewhile t' completely take o'er and mah aging ceased at this point, the age Ah was then,"

"So you're a few years older than twenty-eight. This would place you anywhere around...thirty-two years of age, probably. But it probably took effect any number of years ago, meaning that it could have doubled since then. Therefore, you're under the same time paradox that I am!" she exclaimed.

He appeared slightly uncomfortable, but nodded stiffly, "Ye're right," he said blandly.  
"Okay, I'm right. So then what age does that place you at? I have no way of knowing when you were changed into whatever the hell you are now, so I can't guess,"

He hesitated before telling her. Wynter groaned, "You know, usually it's the girl who's hesitant about revealing her age," she grumbled.

"Ah resent that,"

"Big deal. Just tell me,"

He muttered something to himself, "Ah was frozen at thirty-two, like ye seid," he told her, "But mah true age is actually...sixty,"

Wynter just blinked, "Woah, so you're closer to me than I thought," she said, "That's not really bad, you know. I don't see why you're reluctant to say it,"

"Ah doon't like answering questions," he said.

"I see. I suppose it _would_ raise a few eyebrows if ordinary humans found out. But how do you keep people from figuring it out where you work?"

"The kids ne'er really pay attention," he explained, "And they usually faurget once they're adopted. Most o' the others knoo,"

"And what about those two? Oh, what are their names again? That quiet one and the one who's kind of, well, nuts,"

"Heinkel Wolfe and Yumie Takagi," he said, "Yeah, they knoo. Heinkel especially,"

"Why's that?" Wynter asked. He suddenly seemed rather distant, clenching his fists. He sighed, "Heinkel is the most likely candidate t' replace meh," he said, "Even Ah cannae last faurever. The implants migh' last anywhere from ae few decades t' ae few centuries, even. Nae one really knoos. The oon'y certain thing is that someday, mah oon body will fail meh and Heinkel will take o'er,"

"But Anderson, everyone else this technique was tried on has died," Wynter pointed out, "And from what we understand, it's virtually impossible to predict whether it will work or not,"

"Ah knoo!" he practically yelled, causing a few people to turn and stare at them curiously. Anderson ignored them. He glanced over at Wynter, who surprisingly, seemed somewhat hurt.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I didn't mean to upset you. I guess you care about her a lot, huh?"

"A' right, two questions," he said, "Hoo dae ye knoo who she is and hoo dae ye knoo she's ae girl? Even Ah've ne'er understood why she insists on dressing like ae boy," he grumbled.

"I've met her on occasion. She's the same as you, in that she comes to Bristol to hunt us down sometimes. I must say, she's quite the interesting opponent. But from the standpoint of one who's spent decades studying humans, it's fairly obvious to me that she's female,"

"Hm," Anderson mumbled, "Ah see. But t' answer yer question, a' three o' them are important,"

"Maxwell too, I take it?" Wynter ventured.

"They a' arrived within days o' each other," he explained. Yumie was first, followed by Maxwell, and then Heinkel. Heinkel and Yumie immediately took t' one aenother. Heinkel was ae very quiet child, compared t' Yumie's rambunctiousness. Yumie dragged Heinkel a' o'er the place most o' the time and she just put up wi' it," he said fondly, "They attempted t' befriend Maxwell and faur the most part, it appeared t' work. Maxwell seemed t' trust the two o' them,"

"So you took care of them, then?"

He nodded, "There was something different aboot them," he said, "Ah taught them what they knoo t'day, when they weren't drivin' meh oot o' mah mind, tha' is."

Wynter smiled, "They sound like they were cute back then,"

To her surprise, Anderson reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat and pulled out a small square paper folded over several times. He stared at it a moment and then handed it to her.

"Ah'd appreciate ye being careful wi' that, there," he said. Wynter took it and gingerly unfolded it, paying attention not to rip it. She pushed back the last crease and scanned it.

"So this is them, huh?" she said.

"That was taken aboot thirteen years aego," he explained, "It's the oon'y one, sae be careful t' it,"

It showed Maxwell, clearly as a young child, sitting on a wooden chair in the center, glaring into the camera. At his left stood a little girl with scraggly black hair covering her eyes, clutching a sword twice her size and smirking boisterously off to the right at another little girl with short blond hair and glasses. In her hands, she held twin pistols and stared back at the other child with a look of stunned bewilderment. Behind all three of them, smiling in amusement, stood none other than Father Anderson. The complete disregard for the camera by the two girls was funny enough in of itself.

"Yumie could ne'er sit still," Anderson said with a chuckle, "Five seconds after tha' was taken, she bolted off somewhere, dragging Heinkel along wi' her,"

"I've never met Yumie and from what I've heard, I'm not anxious to," Wynter said, handing back the photo. He folded it down again and returned it to his coat pocket, " Believe it or no', she's actually quite mellow these days," he said, "Nooadays, Heinkel's the one draggin' her aroond,"

Wynter chuckled, "Sounds hectic, but fun," she said, "Most of the young vampires I care for are too preoccupied trying to return to their families, so there aren't any cute stories I can answer with,"

"Return to their families?" he repeated in confusion. Wynter nodded sadly, "Yeah. Damon Bakshi, for instance. He was nine years of age at his turning and his mind won't mature for several decades, so he requires extra-special care by our older vampires. He won't feed, he won't sleep, he burns badly in sunlight at the moment. He's a very unhappy child right now and there's nothing I can do about it,"

"Nine years?"

"He was hit by a car and our more idiotic member, Ilya Proctor, decided to save him without even waiting to see if the strike was fatal or not. I'm thinking of a suitable punishment for her transgression,"

Wynter fell into a silent state of thought. Anderson glanced at her curiously, "Ah heard Sasha tell Sister Katherine tha' ye care faur those creatures as yer family," he pointed out.

"For the most part, I do. A good number of them lived with me in the facility for many years following their creation and relied on me for protection, as they do today. Because of who I am, many natural vampires instinctively avoid me. These unnatural vampires treat me like their own,"

"Ye seemed particularly concerned faur that vampire, Marjorie,"

Wynter hummed, leaning her chin on her hand, "Yeah. Marjorie's different. She was turned against her will and spent her first hundred years in complete hysteria. It's a wonder she survived. She was eventually subdued and rehabilitated by one of our old members. She and Sasha are very important to me,"

"Doon't faurget, Wynter, Sasha is human," he warned.

"I...I know. I've been preparing myself for it. I never intended to grow close to Sasha in the first place. I like humans, and I enjoy being around them to some extent, but I know of the inevitable ending. Someday, Sasha will leave me and I'll be all alone, once again. I can't make the same mistake I did before with Tobias. Even if I could, I wouldn't turn her," she said distantly, staring off into space,"

"Ye woon't necessarily be alone, Wynter," he pointed out, "Provided Ah doon't kill him first, ye'll have Alucard and that Draculina,"

"I know. Seras and I will likely stay with Alucard for a long, long time. Alucard is going through the same thing I am. Someday, Integra will leave him and he'll be alone in this world. I get the feeling that this secretly terrifies him and he hides it with sarcasm and cynicism. Seras and I are his only living 'blood relatives', you might call us, so we'll continue to stay with him even after Integra passes on. However, I really wish you wouldn't try to kill him, or him you, for that matter. Since you both have become somewhat important to me, I can't say for sure who I should support on the battlefield; my 'father' or my 'beloved rival', as Maxwell has dubbed you,"

She chuckled and turned to look out the window. Anderson frowned as a sudden thought occurred to him. He turned to her as though to say something, stopped to gather his thoughts and then sighed, "Wynter, Ah'm going t' kill ye in the near future; hoo come ye're sae cordial wi' meh?"

Wynter twisted back around from the window and fixed him with a blank stare, "And why not?" she replied, "It's like I told you before; just because we're enemies doesn't mean we can't be civilized outside the field of battle,"

"Tha' ae fact," he muttered.

They fell silent for a while. Wynter was left to her own thoughts and her mind wandered back to their impending voyage back to England. They'd both have to stow away, but Wynter would be locked inside a crate to struggle through it by her lonesome. She wasn't looking forward to it, seeing how running water was a vampire's natural weakness. She absently began to bite her nails again. Anderson grumbled in irritation and grabbed her hands again, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye, "Ah see ye're frettin' aboot the ship," he growled. Wynter didn't meet his gaze, staring off pointedly at the wall. The paladin let out an exasperated sigh, "Listen," he said, "Once we're aboard the vessel and ye're locked away somewhere, Ah'll stay with ye until we get there,"

Wynter's eyes widened in shock and then she gasped sharply, "You—you will?" she exclaimed.

"Uh...yeah, Ah will. But oon'y if ye stop bitin'," he snapped.

Wynter nodded fiercely and then suddenly threw her arms around his neck before he could react, "Thanks!" she said, "I'm terrified of water and I hate making trips across it by myself! You have no idea how much that means to me! Thank you so much!"

She pulled back, grinning out the window and folded her hands in her lap.

He just stared in bewildered shock, struggling to process what just happened. His hatred of vampires was so ingrained in his very existence that he'd almost retaliated violently to that simple show of gratitude. However, due to certain circumstances, he'd remained calm. He was a tad bothered, though. It wasn't something he was used to. He didn't usually appreciate this sort of thing too much. However, something this time was different.

He hadn't actually minded too terribly much.

/ooo/

"So then, do you think they could be there before they arrive?"

The pilot seemed uncomfortable with the sharpness in tone, "Uh, sure, I could get them there by this evening if I flew at full tilt," he replied. Maxwell nodded, stony eyes gleaming. Something wasn't right about him, "Excellent. Make sure to set them where they can intercept our little runaways. The traps must be baited properly, after all,"

Beside him, the twins stared ahead blankly, empty, soulless dolls. The pilot cleared his throat, "Yes sir," he said, "I'll do my best,"

He watched nervously as the twins both climbed into the helicopter and took their seats, awaiting takeoff. He turned back to Maxwell, who nodded affirmative on his leave. The pilot turned to go back to his helicopter, doing his best to ignore the piercing gaze of the twins on him the entire way. He wasn't entirely certain why Maxwell wanted them dropped off in the heart of London, carrying orders not to attack anyone except for two people, descriptions of whom had probably been previously given. Originally, he'd thought that working for the Vatican would be the way to help him get his life back on track. Apparently, he thought as he lifted off into the darkening sky, he was wrong.

/ooo/

_"It's too hot," _

_ Wynter moaned as she pulled the rim of her hat down over her eyes, hunching her bare shoulders beneath its shade in a futile attempt to avoid the scorching sunlight. Across from her, Sasha sighed, "I'm sorry, Wynter," she said, "I didn't think it would be so clear today. I think the sun feels nice," _

_ "You're not a vampire, Sasha," Wynter growled, playing with some change she had sitting on the tabletop. _

_ "Should I find you a parasol?" _

_ "In this day and age, a parasol would look ridiculous," Wynter muttered. Sasha shrugged, "Well, maybe we should order something cool to drink. That might help," _

_ She summoned a waiter and ordered an iced tea. Wynter asked for a fruit juice. Sasha watched the waiter leave and then turned to Wynter, "Maybe we can find you a coat or something," _

_ Wynter shook her head and looked out across the street. Within a few minutes, the waiter came back with their drinks. Sasha took her tea, while he set Wynter's fruit juice down. Wynter stared at her drink while Sasha sputtered and burst into hysterical laughter, covering her eyes as she struggled for breath. Wynter groaned, eying her drink irritably. _

_ "Well, that was stupid," she growled. Her drink was bright red. _

_ As Wynter was stirring a packet of sugar into her somewhat bitter juice, she heard Sasha utter a sudden noise of discontent. She looked up to see a couple of teenage boys approaching, looking a little smug as they paused at their table. _

_ "Uh...," Sasha stammered. Wynter eyed them stonily, "Can we help you?" she asked coldly. _

_ The brunette kid smiled, "You two don't look like you're from around here," he said, "The two of us are locals; we could show you around," _

_ "We're only passing through, thanks," Wynter said tartly. She looked up when Sasha scooted her chair to the side to avoid the other kid inching closer to her. The one by Wynter seemingly forgot about her as they focused on the clearly weaker target. Wynter took one look at Sasha's petrified face and felt her blood begin to boil. _

_ "Okay," the kid said, "Your friend isn't interested. Maybe you'd like to come with us, hey cutie?" _

_ "N-No, thanks," Sasha stuttered, shaking her head. _

_ "Aw, come on, we're not that bad," the other boy said, inching even closer. _

_ Suddenly, Wynter snapped to her feet, taking her glass in hand and splashing the contents into both of their faces in anger. They completely froze, staring ahead in shock as Wynter lashed forward and grabbed Sasha's arm, upending the table and taking off down the sidewalk with her; "Time to run!" she yelled. _

_ "Wha-? Wha? W-Wait! Wynter!" Sasha cried as she stumbled behind the Draculina, hearing the furious shouts of the two boys behind them. She chanced a glance back and her heart began to pound wildly as they gave chase. She turned back, struggling to keep pace as Wynter continued to hold onto her arm, "Wynter, you can't just throw things at people like that!" _

_ "I just did, moron!" Wynter exclaimed, glancing back, "Besides, I'm bored and they offered amusement! It's only right that I should accept it!" she said with a grin, showing her fangs. Sasha's breath came in sharp gasps from fatigue as she ran and she scowled, "You're weird, Wynter!" _

_ She was jarred to a sudden stop when Wynter screeched to a halt, causing her to ram into her sharply. Sasha was about to protest when she saw that Wynter had reached a bus stop with a bus already allowing people on board. With their pursuers close behind them, Wynter shoved Sasha aboard and hurried up after her, depositing her spare change into the slot. She dragged her to a seat close to the sidewalk just as the doors closed and the two boys reached the stop, glaring up at them as the bus began to pull away. Wynter grinned and waved teasingly as they drew out of sight and then fell into a fit of barely suppressed giggles, "Hehe, that was fun! I haven't enjoyed myself like that in a while," she exclaimed. _

_ Sasha wanted to be angry that Wynter had gone and done something so wrong in broad daylight. Things like that just weren't done by normal people. But she'd done it anyway and gotten some laughter out of it and...and...well, Sasha had to admit, it was kind of funny. As she ran over the scenario in her head again, she too started to giggle, recalling the looks on their faces as Wynter threw her drink at them. Soon, both girls had completely dissolved in laughter, much to the annoyance of the other passengers. But neither seemed to notice either that, or where the bus was even headed. _

/ooo/

Wynter's eyes snapped open at the memory, realizing she'd only been dreaming. Curled up inside the tiny wooden crate where a mess of work hoses had previously been stored, she attempted to compress her body tighter in order to conserve space.

She yawned wearily, having only finally dropped off to sleep maybe an hour or two ago. They'd stowed away on the ship early in the morning and Wynter had selected the crate to sleep in while they waited. True to his word, Anderson had sealed her in and situated himself close by, talking to her now and again. Wynter found it hard to admit just how appreciative she truly was. Over the roar of the engine, it was nearly impossible for him to hear her, but she could hear him easily. Whenever she crossed over to visit her homeland on infrequent occasions, she had to stow away aboard a ship of some kind, the variety didn't matter. She always hated it because she was particularly sensitive to the water's power after existing on an island for well over thirty years. Visiting the ruins of the villa was even more difficult. She'd done it after leaving Hellsing the year before. But that was a trip she felt she had no choice but make annually. After all, she still struggled to come to terms with his death and even after over a century, she still couldn't accept how miserably she'd failed him. So far, only Anderson knew exactly how Tobias had died defending her. She'd never told anyone else. Maybe...she wondered as she lay curled up in the darkness, maybe it was okay for him to know. After all, Wynter was vaguely reminded of Tobias whenever she was around Anderson. It was like she'd told him; his rough exterior hid a very kind heart. Knowing little else but fear and mistrust from humans and even her own kind, Wynter felt drawn to this. It was different. He was different. She couldn't explain it, but she felt at peace when she was with him. She felt more able to come to terms with Tobias' death. It had taken a long time to recognize this similar feeling she'd developed with Tobias. She couldn't explain how she felt about it. All she knew was that somewhere along the line, constantly fighting with him and when not struggling on the battlefield, taking part in long conversations and debates. And then sometimes not even talking, just sitting quietly and thinking, temporarily sharing a space in the world with a similar being. During battle, they were sworn enemies. Outside of battle...something different was happening. Wynter closed her eyes. She knew that Bianca had been right about whatever she'd said; somewhere along the line between all the conflict and whatnot, she'd grown to love her greatest rival. Over seventy years had passed since she failed so miserably to protect someone so dear to her. She knew that a human would likely recoil at the thought of feeling this way again; they'd say they were 'betraying so-and-so's memory' or something like that. Wynter knew that no matter what she did, Tobias was gone. Because he'd been a vampire when death came to claim him, though he hadn't drunk blood yet, she had no way of knowing where he'd ended up, be it Heaven, Hell, or Limbo. In any case, he was gone and she had to move on. But still, she'd never expected to ever feel this way about anyone ever again. And then her greatest foe of all people, and a human at that. Not to mention the fact that he was a warrior priest out for her life and the fact that he was currently facing the shattering of his world. How could she do something like this? The answer was simple; she couldn't. Thanks to Bianca, it was likely that he suspected what she was going through, though he hadn't really said anything. Whatever had been said back in Rome was little and apparently easily submersible into the fabric of time. Wynter hummed as she thought of this. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it would have to do. She couldn't say anything. She wouldn't. Contrary to whatever Bianca had said, she'd just have to bury her feelings as deep as they would go and then wait out the next few centuries until it was safe to dig them up again. With this lingering thought in mind, she wrapped her shawl around herself, ruffled her wings in the cramped space and closed her eyes with a tired sigh. She drifted into a restless sleep, the swaying of the ship lulling her nerves.

/ooo/

Anderson stared at the crate a couple of feet away from where he sat up against a steel girder that served as an inner support beam to the ship's hull. It was actually hard to believe there was something living inside that thing. If someone came down to inspect for stowaways, they'd never think to look inside it because Wynter was so incredibly quiet. Besides, even if they did think to look, Anderson doubted that they'd leave the ship alive, or at least, human. He and Wynter both knew that if this happened, the discoverer couldn't be allowed to reveal what they knew. The person would know something was wrong because there was no way that the crated stowaway could be expected to breathe in that tiny space. Any air would have long since been used up. There was no way to predict what the person would believe, but still, their presence was best left undetected.

He wondered vaguely if she'd fallen asleep. The engine was extremely loud where they were and he doubted she could hear him talking. It was a tiny crate, more or less. Any human would have been petrified being locked in there. He frowned in consternation when he remembered her instructing him to seal it shut before the ship's engines were activated. She had climbed into the crate and, sitting up inside it, told him to make sure it was nailed shut just as it had been before they opened it. He'd accepted this rather easily, at least until the moment came to actually close the lid. As he did so, their eyes met for just a brief moment before the darkness within consumed her as the crate was again sealed shut. He realized at that moment just how much she really trusted him. She was allowing herself to be placed in an incredibly vulnerable state. Over water, vampires were exponentially weakened, some more so than others. Wynter was one of those vampires and they both knew that with her in such a weakened state, Anderson could easily just wrench the lid open and stab her heart right there, ending her life while she was completely unable to fight back. In fact, a couple of times, he'd drawn a bayonet and approached the crate, staring down at it grimly. But each time, he remembered his promise and turned away to wait. She'd agreed to honor his request to fight her when the time came and he'd get his chance soon enough.

Of course, he thought as his mind trailed away, there was that _other_ little matter to contend with. Bianca had said on two different occasions that Wynter held a deep concern, even feelings for him and she'd also said that it was natural for rivals to grow close. When Wynter had awakened after Bianca released her, he'd been fairly certain he'd hidden it well. He was pretty sure that she didn't suspect a thing. After all, it wasn't like this was a good thing to happen; him, a servant of God, destroyer of all unholy monsters and heathens who refused to take the word of God, essentially developing attachment to the very creature he sought to destroy. No, not just attachment, it seemed. He was barely able to admit it to himself, but...was it possible that in the last few months spent in close proximity, he'd begun to feel a little bit more than simple attachment? He'd always believed that God influenced the lives of all His children, that He had a reason and a purpose for everything He did. So if that was true, then why was He doing this to his own servant? It wasn't right on so many levels. He was human, she was a vampire. He was...he was...was what? What else? For the life of him, that one reason was the only one he could think of right then. Everything else seemed to...just dissipate in his head. Was God trying to tell him something? What if Wynter was right, in that God loved the vampires, too, as well as the humans? If that were the case, then this wouldn't seem so bad.

He shook his head, scowling. No, no, he wasn't making any sense! Wynter was a vampire! It was because of a vampire that he was even like this today! If he had never met that damned monster, if he'd never joined the military to begin with for that matter...that's when it hit him. If he'd never joined the military, he'd never have become the person he was today. His faith in God would likely never have kindled, he'd never have found meaning in his life by caring for the children at the orphanage or by serving His Holiness the Pope, he'd never have found purpose by defending human lives in the act of killing vampires. That was his real reason for fighting, after all, because they ruined human lives, just as one had ruined his. But then, if he'd never made his decisions back then...

He glanced over at the crate where he figured she was probably asleep. He frowned. If he'd never made those decisions, be they good or bad, he'd never have met her, either. She was a vampire who, as she said, understood her own curse. She grasped the meaning behind what she was; always alone, always treading the border of danger and safety, always fighting. She'd attempted to find peace and purpose by uniting a small band of creatures just like her in an attempt to restore balance to their lives. She was bringing the scared and meeker individuals of her kind to the safety she provided with her protection. In a sense, she was doing the same thing he was. They were both serving as stepping stones for the young and the weak, giving them the support they needed to rise up into the world they couldn't enter without assistance. He and Wynter, serving in these roles, would never actually make it into that world so long as they continued down their chosen paths. So now, their paths were intersecting, and Anderson believed that God had ordained it to be this way. But what was He trying to say? Was He trying to tell him that it was time he found his way into the world? Was He trying to tell Wynter the same thing? If God hadn't yet struck him down for daring to feel this way about a vampire, then Anderson had no choice but to doubt the advice he'd always given himself; that vampires were hateful creatures that God wished decimated from the earth. Unfortunately, anything he tried to say sounded like an excuse to him. However, if God had allowed it to happen, then what was wrong with it? Humans were very set in their ways. Anderson knew that if anyone found out about this, there would be big trouble. He couldn't allow anyone to find out. He was bound to human laws and human laws declared this to be just plain wrong.

So with this in mind, he had just one question; why didn't he care?

/ooo/

Two hours passed. The ship's engine finally died, signaling their arrival in Bristol. Following Wynter's instructions in the overseas transport of a vampire, he quickly opened the lid of the crate with a single wrench and peered inside. She was curled up in exactly the same position she'd been in when they'd departed. She was sound asleep. Her face was surprisingly peaceful for what she described as an arduous journey. She actually looked human like this. Anderson briefly faltered when it came to waking her, but he gathered his composure again and reached in, shaking her lightly, "Wynter, wake up," he said, "We've docked in Bristol,"

Wynter moaned in her sleep and her eyes shifted beneath the lids. In the darkness around them, he saw her eyes open, revealing the blazing red orbs that proved she was anything _but _human. She yawned slightly, exposing her fangs and sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes, "We're here already?" she muttered, "Thanks for waking me. I don't think I'd have awoken on my own easily,"

She sighed and ruffled her wings, "I guess it's about time we got back to England. But how do you feel about the whole situation? I'm home, but you're still a fugitive," she said.

"What Ah think does no' matter," he said sternly, "What matters is tha' we end this ludicrous mess,"

Wynter sighed and shook her head, "Honestly, why are you so...human?" she asked after searching for the correct word. She stood up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt, reaching around her for her hat and flipping her hair out of the braid and over her wings. She frowned in thought and then smirked, searching around for her bag. Anderson stood up, moving to check if the coast was clear for them to escape. When he turned back around, he was shocked to see that Wynter was sitting down, busily undoing the buttons on the back of her shirt.

"What the hell are ye doing?" he exclaimed. She glanced up blankly, "What? I'm back in England, so the disguise is no longer necessary, not that it really was to begin with. I'm going to change back,"

"Here!"

"Of course. I'm not about to walk around England like this, you know,"

He whirled, "At least wait until Ah'm turned away!" he exclaimed, bristling. There was nowhere for her to really go if she was serious so the only thing he could do was simply A, turn away from her and B, keep an eye on the stairs. Vampire or not, she was still a woman and it was indecent! But good luck telling her that. She didn't really appear to care.

"Well, at least you react more rationally than Tobias used to," he heard her say.

"Are ye sayin' ye dae this kind o' thing often?" he growled, folding his arms as he waited.

"No, I'm just saying that I often had no choice seventy-some years ago when I lived with Tobias. He never let me leave to go earn money for new clothes because he was always afraid that I'd be spotted by Arakawa's men. So I had to wash my clothes in the sink. Besides, I always said it wasn't like he'd burst into flames if he so much as looked at me,"

"That's no' the point, Wynter," Anderson said, "What's wi' the complete disregard for modesty?"

"It's not that I have no modesty. I'm just used to it. When I was held in the facility, we were referred to as numbers and weren't given clothes for the most part. Anything we wore could be taken from us without warning. I just became accustomed to it,"

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He cleared his throat, "Sae then...what was yer number?" he asked, almost turning out of habit, but remembering in time and stopping.

"Thirteen," she answered, "The 'bad luck' number. Everyone there was downright terrified of me. I guess it fit. The humans feared my power. The vampires feared my scent,"

"They could detect Alucard on ye," Anderson ventured.

"Yeah, I suppose so. You can turn around, now,"

He did so with a tired sigh, watching her warily. She had pulled the braid from her hair and was busily brushing the tangles out with her fingers, "That feels better," she remarked, "I like this better than those fancy things, anyway,"

She pulled her wings into her cloak and fixed her shawl, standing up and stretching, "It feels good to be back," she said, "But we're not out of the woods yet. Once the loading dock is in place, we need to get out of here and get back to London. Obviously, Bianca told you something about our present situation that I'm not aware of. While I'd like to know, we're pressed for time,"

He nodded, "Then lets' be on oor way,"

Making it off the ship turned out to be easier than boarding it. All they had to do was jump to the dock from the railing. Once down, no one unloading the cargo seemed to notice them at all and they were free to leave. Wynter breathed deeply and sighed, "The salt air is nice. Kinda makes me wish I needed to breathe more often, but to do so just makes me dizzy,"

Anderson cast a strange glance at her. She was gazing at the buildings as they walked, clearly happy to be back. She chuckled, "I'm probably going to get scolded by Alucard for allowing myself to be dragged to Rome. But I do wonder how Bianca got us there when I have to cross water to get there," she said ponderously, staring at the ground.

"Bianca mentioned she was ae priestess," Anderson said, "Perhaps her spiritual power ootweighed yer oon demonic abilities,"

"You may have a point, there," Wynter agreed, "But you have to admit, it's still a bit sketchy,"

She glanced up suddenly, turning off to the left to watch a small pillar of smoke curling into the sky above them. She smiled, "Well, well, it seems like the new bakery is up and running. That was quick; it was only destroyed a couple of months ago," she said with a leer in his direction. Anderson bristled, "Ah dinnae cause that! It was'nae even supposed t' happen!"

"You sound like you're making excuses," Wynter chimed mirthfully. Anderson realized she'd been toying with him and that he'd foolishly fallen for it. Infuriated, he swept off, leaving her behind. Wynter hurried after him, chuckling, "Oh come on, you don't have to get mad, I was just playing with you. I already knew that the fire was accidentally set by two hair-brained recruits of Iscariot,"

She sighed, "Actually, that bakery was very old. Marjorie had been meaning to replace all the old ovens for new ones anyway. Plus, the building needed a lot of repairs and refurbishing. It was a pretty old place, after all. This sort of gave her the excuse to do some redecorating. I sort of wish I could see her while we're here, but having you there would certainly make things awkward," she said.

"Ah'm no' too anxious t' meet ae group o' vampires, Wynter,"

"Yeah, I figured you might say something like that. It's just as well; we need to get back to Hellsing as soon as possible. I believe the train leaves in about a half hour. It's been a rough journey, but we'll soon be back. The sooner we return, the sooner we straighten out this mess and the sooner you can go home and we can get back to fighting," she said cheerfully. Her expression grew serious, then, "Unless of course you disapprove of this plan for whatever reason," she said.

"Ah doon't," he said stiffly, "Hooever, if it's t' work, Ah'm anxious t' set it in motion a'ready. Let's get going," he said, continuing down the street toward the station. Wynter stared after him blankly for a moment before shrugging and starting forward.

"I don't know why," she said all of a sudden, "But I'm feeling strangely anxious. We've only been missing for a little over three days, half of that time spent returning to England, but it feels like I've been gone only seconds,"

"Ye're ae vampire; time means nothing t' the likes o' ye. In mah case, it feels like years have floon by," he said from several feet away. Fortunately, there weren't many people around to possibly overhear them.

Wynter smirked, "And you're human; time means everything to you," Wynter countered, "But you're not an ordinary human. You said yourself you're sixty years of age exactly, but that you were frozen over thirty years ago. You were frozen just as I was. We're walking cryogenics," she joked.

"What?" he exclaimed in confusion.

Wynter sighed heavily, "We were both on the verge of death when our lives were forever altered. You became a modified human, in layman's terms, an android of sorts, fighting for a worthwhile cause to defend humans of your own race and belief. I, on the other hand, became something more simple and easier to understand. I fight for nothing and no one except for myself and my own existence. That's just the kind of selfish creature I've turned into over my many years of solitude. I can't help the fact that I'm self-centered for the most part. I spend all my time alone; it's natural. But then, a random plot twist, the zany antics of a warped author throws my happy little world into written chaos. You might say I'm breaking the fourth wall. In any case, it doesn't matter. This white crow enjoys her life,"

She headed off up the street, leaving him to stare after her in bewilderment.

"Wynter, none o' what ye seid made any sense," he protested.

"Oh sure it did. We're both white crows. Honestly, what are the chances we'd meet one another in a real world?" she said as if it were the plainest thing on earth.

Anderson had the vague idea that she was trying to tell him something.

/ooo/

Integra had just gotten off the phone with Mr. Burns, their former Vatican informant. She had her head cradled in one upraised hand, her teeth clamped down hard over her cigar, threatening to snap it in two.

"Damn it," she hissed.

"Something troubles you, my master?" Alucard chimed from his position beside the door, arms folded and leaning against the wall. Integra simply ignored him and reached to the call button on the P.A system, "Walter, where are you currently?"

"_The sub levels, sir. I'm trying to bolster our security systems just in case,_"

"Abandon it; we've got trouble headed our way. I've just received word from Mr. Burns. It seems that the Vatican has suddenly deployed a helicopter headed toward us, carrying the twins, both fully armed. This can only mean that Wynter and Anderson have evaded capture and are attempting to return,"

Walter hummed thoughtfully on the other end, "_It would seem they're trying to intercept them at the same time as weakening our own defenses. Killing two birds with one stone, more or less. However, you do realize that there is still nothing we can realistically do to help them. If we were to mobilize at the wrong time, it would stir up war for certain. Right now, all we can do is open our gates and hope that they make it back before that helicopter arrives," _

Integra clenched her fists angrily at this. Walter was right; their hands were tied. If they acted now, while the Vatican was still in such an uproar, they'd only ignite religious warfare needlessly. Whether or not Maxwell was aware of what he was doing, his timing couldn't have been worse. Integra didn't really care too terribly much for either Wynter or Anderson; Wynter gave her chills the likes of which even Alucard couldn't, and Anderson was simply her enemy. It was the fact that she was entirely helpless that made her blood boil. She looked up at Alucard, seemingly asleep on his feet, though she knew better. He was listening to all being said. Her eyes narrowed, "Alucard, just how greatly do you care for your very first fledgling?" she asked almost tauntingly as she shut the P.A off.

Alucard peered at her over the tops of his glasses, frowning, "That's a rather queer thing for you to say, Integra," he pointed out, "I've told you before; Wynter's grown now and she has no more need of me. Honestly, I don't really see why she sought me out all these years. She should know that by invading my home, she runs the risk of death at my hands,"

"Typical traits of a bestial creature," Integra spat, "I can see right through that bluff, Alucard. She's run that so-called risk twice and still lives. It's the same principle as with Seras. I don't believe you'd truly go through with it if presented the opportunity,"

"Don't make foolish assumptions, Integra," Alucard growled, "You don't know us as well as you believe,"

"I know more than you think, Alucard," Integra countered coolly, "Wynter is more than a mere fledgling competition to you; she's closer to your daughter as well as the apparent reincarnation of your pact sister, that is if what you told us was all true. Given this, you care more for her than you let on,"

"Where are you going with this, Integra?"

"Just one thing; there's a very real possibility that Wynter may die within the next few hours. Are you going to fail her yet again, Alucard?"

She was pushing it and she knew it. Alucard was driven by vampiric pride and his failures to protect his first fledgling ate away at him daily. Integra knew he wouldn't be right again until he could successfully protect her. But she knew it wasn't just Wynter. Something had clearly happened with Bianca, as well.

Alucard never answered.

Outside, the faint sound of rotors churning met their ears off in the distance.

/ooo/

Wynter looked up in time to see the immense shadow passing overhead, the din of the rotors deafening from this short distance. Brushing her billowing hair from her face, she frowned concernedly, "A helicopter! Is it one of ours?"

"Ah doon't believe sae," Anderson answered, "Ah think it's one o' oors!"

"The Vatican!" Wynter exclaimed, "No! They're headed for Hellsing!"

They'd only just arrived in London, their train having been delayed due to transmission problems in the station. Now, just outside the station, they'd spotted the aircraft wheeling toward the Hellsing estate.

Both of them knew what was likely aboard that craft. Both of them understood the immense stakes at hand should that helicopter reach Hellsing.

"We have to get there now!" Wynter said, bolting forward. Anderson took off after her. By now, an entire day had passed and it was late at night. Thankfully, only a few people were on the streets to notice them, mostly tourists and scattered locals.

It took several minutes to clear the bustling inner city of London. They finally reached the suburban roads leading to the old manor, nothing but surrounding countryside on either side of them.

Wynter skidded to a halt suddenly, staring up at the sky as the same helicopter whizzed overhead, heading back the way it came toward Rome. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she realized what this probably meant. A few feet away, Anderson also watched its progress.

"Hey," he said, "Ah'm assuming we're both thinkin' the same thing,"

"Probably," Wynter answered briskly, "If you're thinking that that chopper has already completed its mission, then yes, we are,"

The road before them led to the Hellsing manor. Wynter could see straight to the bend clear as day.

And that's what terrified her.

"Anderson," she said warningly, "I'm really hoping that you're seeing what I'm seeing,"

"Unlikely," he said impatiently as the tension in the air grew thicker, "Ah doon't have night vision t' compare t' yers. Ah see something coming, but Ah cannae tell what it is,"

"You don't want to. Run! It's Giuseppe!" Wynter yelled, whirling and scrambling off the path. Anderson found that he suddenly couldn't move, however, and was frozen in place on the path. He knew instantly that Mireille was somewhere close by and that he was in serious trouble.

Wynter noticed what was happening and unfurled her wings, gliding swiftly back down to the path. Her eyes blazed and she let out a wolfish snarl as she took a defensive stance facing Giuseppe.

"Anderson, move damn it! You're going to be killed!"

"Ah can't!" he yelled in frustration. Wynter could see that he was struggling to move and was strangely unable to. He scowled as Giuseppe finally reached them and paused about ten feet away, sword brandished in their direction. His face remained stonily blank.

Wynter shuddered suddenly, feeling as though something were crawling up her spine. She instinctively knew that someone was now behind them and assumed it to be Mireille. She backed up slightly, knowing that since Anderson couldn't move under Mireille's piercing gaze, it was up to her to defend them both. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been a problem, but Giuseppe and Mireille were in a class by themselves. Wynter didn't even know if she could fight them, much less defeat them. So far, they'd proven themselves to be highly formidable. Her eyes narrowed; everything had its weak points. These two were no different. She just had to find those weak points.

Giuseppe's arm twitched and Wynter braced, anticipating an attack. Her left arm disintegrated into shadow matter lashing out and snatching his wrist. Giuseppe looked down at it blankly and futilely tried to pull away from it, only for it to tighten. Wynter smirked and set about to dragging him closer while he thrashed wildly to free himself, his face never changing. Wynter had to admit that that was just eerie. She chanced a glance behind her at Mireille, standing motionless with her eyes flashing myriads of colors as she stared unblinkingly at Anderson.

Wynter frowned thoughtfully, and hummed, "I wonder..." she mumbled. If she wanted to do what she was hypothesizing, she'd have to release Giuseppe, but it was worth it if it worked. She recoiled her shadow matter, dropping him hard to the ground. Then she pulled her left hand back into its original form and took four quick steps closer to Mireille. She clapped her hands sharply.

Just as she predicted, the girl blinked suddenly. Her gaze broken, Anderson quickly dove out of her line of vision toward Giuseppe just as the boy charged forward, sword raised. Anderson intercepted and snagged the blade against two bayonets before it sliced into Wynter. As he drove Giuseppe back, he glanced at her curiously, "Hoo did ye knoo?"

"Mireille's human!" Wynter answered as she faced off against her, "Her human reflexes are the same! It just occurred to me, that's all,"

Anderson smirked, "Ah have t' admit, Ah'm impressed," he said as he shoved Giuseppe back without attacking him, "Ye're provin' yer worth,"

But even as it seemed they were gaining the upper hand, Wynter knew that to make eye contact with Mireille was deadly and so she was slowly driven back as the girl drew closer. She now stood facing Mireille with Anderson directly behind her, facing Giuseppe. They both knew they could possibly win, but couldn't estimate the costs at all.

Suddenly, the air around them grew unbearably thick and Wynter felt her vision going blurry. Was she going blind again? No, she wasn't, she could still see. Behind her, she heard Anderson grunt in pain and realized that Mireille wasn't finished with them yet.

"Wynter, can ye move?"

"Y-Yeah," Wynter replied, "But we're in serious trouble! If we don't get out of here, we'll be cut to ribbons!"

"Sae get oot! Just fly a'ready!"

Wynter eyed him skeptically, "What?"

He glanced back at her, though it was clear that simple action was difficult, "Fly back t' Hellsing! Let them knoo what's happening here!"

Wynter's eyes widened, "Are you nuts! There is no way in hell I'm leaving you here to deal with them by yourself!"

"There's nae sense in both o' us staying," he argued, eying Giuseppe as he got closer and closer. Anderson whirled and grabbed Wynter's arm, forcefully hurling her away off the path. She stumbled, but maintained her footing and leaped out of the way as Giuseppe took a swing at her. She beat her wings and lifted into the air, vanishing into the darkness above them. Anderson once again found himself paralyzed by Mireille and for the first time in many years, realized he was completely helpless to do anything. But still, he never took his eyes off Giuseppe, daring him to just try and attack, "Ye're oon'y ae kid," he snapped, "Maxwell had nae right t' dae this t' ye. Ye should'nae be fighting, but ye are anyway. Sae come at meh, then! See if ye can kill meh!"

Giuseppe's eyes flickered. It was the first trace of emotion he'd shown. Anderson knew that there was nothing he could do, but he wasn't going to go down easily. With Mireille holding him frozen in place and Giuseppe preparing to impale him, he had a feeling that he was probably done for this night. It was almost like his first run-in with the vampire in Romania. He once again felt a twinge of fear, but the urge to take his own life was missing.

Giuseppe braced, pushing off against his left foot as he charged toward the paladin, sword raised. Paralyzed by Mireille's arresting glare, Anderson could do nothing but watch and reflexively closed his eyes before impact.

There was a sudden rush of wind around them and the sharp sound of the sword striking through something. All of a sudden, Anderson found that he was once again capable of movement as Mireille broke her stare. But that wasn't the strange part; he hadn't felt the sword strike him and as he opened his eyes, he saw why.

"Nae...," he muttered, "Wynter!"

Wynter had seemingly been biding her time in the sky, watching the battle from above. Unable to bring herself to leave him to face them alone, it seemed, she'd stayed in the area. Now, she stood directly before him, turned away from him toward Giuseppe who stood with the claymore sword buried halfway into Wynter's body, and to Anderson's amazed horror, straight through the left side of her chest where he saw the tip of the blade visible through the other side, slicing through her thick hair, directly through her heart.

Wynter couldn't speak; she uttered a faint choking sound and coughed blood as Giuseppe wrenched the sword free, the blade bathed in her blood. Wynter twitched once and then slowly crumpled to the ground.

A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Evil cliffhangers! But that's what happens! Hehehe. I feel so evil right now, lol.


	26. Twenty Five

A/N: I've been doing a lot of editing on this story. I have no idea how good it is or how bad it is. In any case, Wynter has no obtained a role in my novel, so it isn't like I have to lose her when this story is over. However, I can't let her keep interfering with my work.

Twenty-five

No one had been expecting that, least of all Anderson. All three of them were momentarily frozen, staring at the vampire lying bleeding on the ground.

Fighting instincts kicked in. Anderson lashed viciously out at Giuseppe, driving him back. Giuseppe's normally blank face suddenly winced slightly as his shoulder began to bleed profusely through the fabric. Giuseppe bolted out of the way as a rain of blades slashed down at him from nowhere. He paused a few feet from Mireille, sword raised as Anderson positioned himself between the twins and Wynter, lying motionless on the ground. He couldn't explain why he was so angry all of a sudden. All he knew was that he had no more choice but to kill the twins. They just weren't—wait, what was Mireille doing?

She'd stepped forward suddenly and taken hold of her brother's arm. Giuseppe's eyes shifted to look at her almost questioningly. Mireille slowly, blankly, shook her head back and forth. Giuseppe stared at her for the better part of a minute before finally, much to Anderson's amazement, lowering his sword. He watched as Mireille placed her hand on Giuseppe's shoulder and closed her eyes. The two of them took on a strange, ethereal glow that grew brighter and brighter until Anderson was forced to cover his eyes. There was a sound like a whirring engine that quickly died away and when he opened his eyes again, they were gone, vanished into thin air.

They were just gone. He had no idea where, but it had almost seemed like Mireille was trying to protect her brother. Whatever the reason, they'd departed to who knows where. Anderson turned to Wynter and approached carefully. He knelt beside her and grasped her shoulder lightly, shaking her gently, "Wynter, wake up. They're gone, noo," he said. But she didn't move. She wasn't dead; she'd have turned to dust if she was, but he could tell she was in bad condition. He carefully lifted her off the ground into his arms, straightening up and continuing down the path toward the Hellsing manor. He glanced down at her occasionally. Her face was expressionless and she was clearly unconscious. Traces of her shadow matter were floating aimlessly around the deep gash in her chest, attempting to heal it. If Giuseppe hadn't pierced her heart, he'd grazed it. Wynter was clearly fighting. Again, he was reminded of how fragile her body seemed. It still felt like she'd break into pieces if he so much as moved wrong. It was hard to believe that she was such a powerful creature when placed in this perspective.

If asked why he was saving her, or trying to, anyway, he wasn't sure he could give a definite answer. Wynter was his rival, yes, but there was something else, something he just couldn't really pinpoint.

Strange things were happening that he held no control over. The only thing he could do now was return with her to the Hellsing Organization and hope to God that they were able to stop Marku from provoking Bianca into doing the unthinkable.

/ooo/

"Oh my God, Wynter!"

Seras rushed outside the second it was made known that Anderson and Wynter had made it back and that Wynter gravely injured and unconscious. She completely ignored Anderson as she reached out to grab Wynter's shoulder, "Wynter! Wake up! Are you okay? What happened to her?" she cried

"Wyn!" Sasha shrieked, having just appeared in the front doorway followed by Integra and Walter. Alucard was nowhere to be seen. Sasha stumbled over to them and threw a venomous glare at Anderson, "What the hell did you do!"

Everyone expected some kind of retort or backfire at the former hunter, but to their surprise, Anderson said nothing in his own defense. He simply looked up as Integra approached calmly, arms folded behind her back, "So I see the two of you escaped," she remarked. Her gaze fell on Wynter. The Draculina's face was chalky, even for a vampire. She was getting worse and her shadow matter struggling to repair the damage was growing weaker.

"Lets' get her inside," Integra said quietly. As she turned, she noticed a quick glimpse of red in the doorway. Alucard had been watching after all and he likely suspected the same thing she did. It was probable that with this kind of grievous injury, Wynter wouldn't last the night. She knew better than to trick herself into believing that they wouldn't go down in the morning to find nothing but a pile of ash remaining.

They took Wynter down to her sub-level room, Sasha eying the paladin with distaste. It was suspicious that he'd been the one to bring her back in this condition, but it was even more suspicious that he wouldn't defend himself.

They found Alucard waiting down there for them, his face blank, his thoughts unreadable through his glasses. Sasha expected him to do something, anything, to show how angry he was that Wynter had likely been put through this by the paladin, but Alucard said nothing.

Inside, Seras and Sasha watched helplessly as Anderson carefully set Wynter down on her bed and then stepped back against the wall, watching almost placidly as Walter moved forward to examine her. Seras had to admit, she was surprised at how gentle Anderson had been just then. She hadn't expected that from him. But then, she reasoned, Anderson did tend to treat Wynter differently from other vampires for some reason.

They all watched quietly, the tension mounting. Walter examined Wynter's wounds carefully, noting her body's attempts to heal them. Finally, he stood up and sighed, "So far, it's hazy at best," he said, "She's lost a lot of blood, even for a vampire and her heart has been grazed slightly. I believe she'll live, but it may take some time for her to awaken,"

"How long do you estimate?" Integra asked, "We haven't much time,"

"There's no way of knowing, I'm afraid. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days or even maybe a few years," Walter said, "With this surmountable damage, it's a far cry from a mild scratch,"

He turned to Anderson, "Can you tell us what happened?"

"He doesn't need to. It's pretty clear what happened," Sasha spat, "You finally attacked her, didn't you? It's pretty obvious you wanted to kill her! Just admit it already!"

Anderson didn't reply. He just stared at her blankly, causing her to falter slightly.

"He didn't do it," Alucard said suddenly from the other side of the room. Everyone turned to him curiously, Sasha more than anyone, "And just how do you know that?"

"Father Anderson here is a professional vampire hunter. You should understand this well, Sasha Pevensy. If he had in fact been the one to do this, he would've struck her heart directly, killing her without hesitation. From that, he wouldn't have bothered to bring us her ashes. Wynter's still very much alive, albeit unconscious. On the way here, he had innumerable chances to kill her and didn't. That's all the proof we need," he said darkly.

"Then...then why wouldn't he say anything? He could have explained himself!"

"He's smart enough to know to keep his mouth shut. Anything he said could have been used against him. Besides, it's my belief that Wynter wasn't the only one attacked. Am I right, Judas Priest?" he sneered.

Anderson's eyes narrowed dangerously and he clenched his fists, glaring at Wynter's motionless form a few feet away. Alucard adjusted his glasses, "I'll take that as an affirmative," he said.

Integra cleared her throat, "Well, it seems we are once again left with nothing else to do but wait. Someone should stay with her, though. Not that there's anything we can do if she's reduced to ash by morning," she said quite carelessly.

"I will," Alucard said, "I have nothing else to do,"

"Nae," Anderson spoke up for the first time, "Ah will. Ah allooed this t' happen, sae it's mah responsibility,"

_Now_ everyone was thoroughly shocked. Seras grabbed Sasha and slapped a hand over her mouth as she started to shriek wildly and dragged her out of the room. Integra frowned, "That's quite noble. What brought this on?" she asked suspiciously. Again, Anderson didn't answer. Integra hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing more on the matter as she turned to go, "Very well, but try to control yourself," she warned. She motioned for a rather uneasy-looking Walter to follow her and they departed as well. Now, only Alucard remained. He glanced first at Wynter and then at Anderson. The paladin was staring pointedly at the floor.

"So," Alucard said, "Is this merely guilt for allowing her to fall under attack or is it something else?"

"Neither," Anderson bit out, "Ah could'nae care less if she's attacked,"

But the edge in his voice gave him away. Alucard chuckled, "You really are a terrible bluffer, Anderson," he said mirthfully, "It must be painful to watch whenever you play cards,"

Anderson bristled, but didn't reply. Alucard frowned, "She was injured defending you, wasn't she?"

Anderson twitched in what was probably a failed defensive reflex. Alucard nodded, "I thought so. You're probably wondering how I knew that. The answer is simple; I know Wynter. That's just the type of selfless fool she is. So now, instead of her owing you, you now owe her,"

Anderson's eyes narrowed, "She told ye o' the debt?"

"No. I simply probed her mind when she slept. That was quite a noble gesture on your part, Judas Priest; sparing her life and saving the life of her human companion. And then she offers to grant a single request no matter what it might be. She truly is a foolish fledgling,"

He sighed as he turned to look at her, "But she's my foolish fledgling, now isn't she? Honestly, what was I thinking in turning her? She's a truly strong vampire, but she's as human as they come. I certainly attract the stubborn ones, don't I? What a sorry situation this is,"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door. He paused at the exit and peered back over his shoulder, "However, Anderson," he said, "I trust you understand what will take place should any further harm befall my unfortunate fledgling,"

With those ominous parting words, he departed, closing the door. Anderson was left alone with the unconscious vampire. At first, he felt somewhat bereft, unsure of what to do. Finally, he dragged a chair over from its place beside the wall and sat down sideways, draping his arm over the back and resting his head on it with a sigh. He faced the opposite wall, casting occasional sidelong glances over at her. To his puzzlement, he saw that her chest was slowly rising up and down, that she was actually breathing. Was that even possible? He always thought vampires didn't require air and she'd said herself it made her dizzy. So why was she breathing now?

"Oh," he said suddenly. He realized that when asleep, the bodily functions differ. In order to continue operation, the natural reflex of breathing reinstalled itself in the vampiric mind. He supposed this was a good sign, then. It showed that she still lived.

"Ye scared everyone here, ye knoo," he muttered, "Ye daft idiot,"

No reply. Of course. He adjusted his glasses mostly out of the need to fidget, "What the hell were ye thinkin? Giuseppe's sword is silver. If Ah'd been struck doon, Ah'd oon'y regenerate,"

But Alucard had said that she was selfless fool, contradicting what she'd told him mere hours ago about how selfish she was.

Why was he suddenly so upset? This wasn't like him. Looking over at her, he was abashed to realize that somewhere along the lines, he'd stopped seeing her as a monster. Now he saw more or less a plain, albeit weird girl. A bizarrely unique individual whose presence he strangely enjoyed. What was this? It was driving him crazy!

"_You're so amusing, you know. The answer is quite simple; you're in love,"_

Anderson bolted up, whirling about in a frenzy as he searched for her in the empty room, "Bianca! Show yerself!"

"_Come now, why do you always forget so easily? Of course, with my medium incapacitated until further notice, the best I can do is a vocal apparition within your mind. I assure you you're not going insane," _

He sighed irritably, "Sae why are ye here?" he asked.

"_I noticed you were having some self-argumentative issues and decided to spell it out for you. It's taken you a while to realize it. It's exactly as I predicted. While my medium has developed feelings for you and hidden them for your sake, so too have you begun to love her as well, whether you admit it or not. Honestly, never before have I met such a stubborn human. At least she has reason for her actions," _

"That's no' possible!" he exclaimed.

"_Any why not? Humor me?" _

Anderson wracked his mind, but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with any other answer but, "Because Ah'm human and she's ae vampire,"

Bianca sighed, "_That may be true, but she was human once. But truthfully, I really don't see the difference. I'm neither, rather a class above both, so you're all the same to me. The way I see it, the only difference the two of you harbor is your lifespans, of which you almost match. You aren't a true human anymore, after all. You are aware of this, right?" _

"Aye, Ah'm aware. Hoo could Ah no' be?"

"_So you should know that it no longer matters. I have probed her memories and discovered another human she grew attached to, Tobias Flint. I'm aware that she told you how he died and her heart has never healed, until now that is. You weren't even aware of it, but you've been able to help her forgive herself for what happened,_"

He didn't answer her. Bianca sighed, "_Why are you so stubborn?" _

"Ah doon't see hoo it's possible," he mumbled.

"_Well, it is and you'd best learn to accept the idea. Perhaps it would be wise to say something when she awakens. She plans to bury everything as deep as it will go until many centuries have passed. Now, with my medium so weak, I too am fatigued. I'm going to rest now. Please at least think about what I said," _

And with that, she was gone. Anderson sighed heavily and sat back down in the same previous position. He looked over at Wynter, still asleep, but still breathing. Okay, so maybe Bianca was right. Maybe this uneasiness really _was_ what she said. So, he figured, lets' assume he did love her. There were many reasons why that was seriously wrong. Their ages for one thing. Disregarding the fact that both of them were frozen in weird time paradoxes and the fact that she was over a hundred years old, in ordinary human years, he was about twelve years older than her, which for some odd reason was frowned upon in present society. Then there were their social statuses to consider. While he was often called a priest, he was actually a paladin and there was a definite difference. He had training in both stations, but had never actually carried out the role of what many refer to as a priest, is actually a pastor. Being more of a warrior than anything else, he wasn't sure where the rules would fall in there.

Then with Wynter, she was the mock-leader of a cabal of paranoid vampires who had actually cut her off for allying with him. He wasn't certain how this was going for her. If they knew what was impending, they'd probably kill her.

The most important reason was this; he was human, she was a vampire. The past few weeks had definitely shown him that vampires did in fact share a lot more in common with their human counterparts than he'd originally believed, but despite all that, they were still vampires. She was different from any creature he'd ever known. She'd risked her life to save her human friend, had her wings ripped off defending the orphanage where Sasha had been held for healing, and now, with tonight's incident, throwing herself between him and Giuseppe to stop him from possibly being killed. And now, she was paying for it. As he watched her quietly, he realized that he felt worried, anxious, afraid that she might suddenly cease breathing and crumble into dust before his eyes. He could see how her expression had gone somewhat pained in the last while that she was fighting. Her wound continued to fester, as bandaging it would do no good. Infection wasn't a problem for the undead. But if her heart couldn't regenerate whatever it had lost during the fight, she'd likely die. This was the ultimate test of her vampiric abilities.

And she seemed to be losing. She was on the verge of giving up.

He scraped the chair slightly closer and peered down at her seriously, "Wynter, ye need t' wake up, and soon," he said sternly, "Ye're leaving behind too many people who are coonting on ye. Think o' the trouble Simon will cause yer friend in Bristol if ye gae and die on him,"

To his surprise, her hand twitched slightly. Encouraged by this, he continued; "Yer friend, Sasha would be crushed, ye knoo. And tha' menace Alucard," he said as calmly as he could manage, "When the Hellsing woman finally dies, ye need t' be there t' keep him from going ballistic. Come on, Wynter," he said, realizing that everything he was saying was severely hypocritical, since he fully intended to kill her in the fight she promised him.

He chuckled bitterly, "And what aboot meh? Sure, Ah'm gaeing t' kill ye anyway, but until then, Ah enjoy talking t' ye. Ye just...," he trailed off, unable to say anything else, even though she was unconscious and there was no one around to hear anything he said, except for maybe Louis if what he said about his hearing was true. He just couldn't admit aloud that in the end, whether he liked it or not, Bianca was right. Somewhere along the line, despite all of his claims of hatred and his attempts at killing her, he'd fallen in love with his rival, Wynter. He didn't know how it had happened, or why, but it did and it was there. He knew now what all of that uneasiness had been. He felt it more strongly now than he ever had before. So this is what she'd been hiding. Even though he now knew that she felt the same thing and hid it, he still couldn't admit it to her. He sighed and shook his head, "Wynter, hoo aboot Ah phrase it another way? If ye die, Ah'll follow ye and drag ye back. If Ah have t' explain mahself t' God on the way oot o' Hell, Ah will and take mah chances. Nae one gets t' take yer life but meh, Wynter. Noo is nae exception. I've seid it many ae time. If ye die noo, Ah will follow ye t' Hell an' back. Ah wonnae let ye die, noo,"

He laid his head back down on his arm, removed his glasses and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. He hoped she heard every word he just said.

Because he meant every bit of it.

/ooo/

It stung like hell.

That was Wynter's first conscious sensation. She grunted in pain as she shifted to her right side, feeling the ache in her chest where the blade had sunk. She'd about panicked when she felt the blade graze the edge of her heart. But it hadn't pierced it, which was good. If it had, she'd have turned to dust for certain. But she was alive and kicking, so to speak.

Speaking of which, where was she anyway? Her room? She opened her eyes, her throat burning. God, was she thirsty. Usually, Walter left a bag of medical blood on her table for when she awoke. But a quick glance showed it wasn't there and she moaned in irritation. Instead, she noticed something heavily out of the ordinary.

She wasn't alone. There was someone in her room. The room was pitch black, save for the tiny little clock she'd installed some time ago. Her eyes could pick out even the most minute of details through the inky darkness and seated before her a couple of feet away was none other than Alexander Anderson, soundly asleep. She could hear him breathing silently. He had his head resting against his left arm leaning on the back of the chair. As she raised herself up painfully on one elbow, she vaguely wondered how long he'd been there. A single glance down at her chest confirmed that her shadow matter had managed to get to work, despite her state of torpor, something that hadn't happened the last time she was struck by Giuseppe's sword. She'd have to ask Alucard about that later. In the meantime, her wound was healing nicely.

She looked back up at the paladin. She expected him to hear even the tiniest movement she made, but he didn't budge. She didn't suppose he usually got much rest while constantly on alert. And after nearly four days running from their pursuers, she supposed he was exhausted. She smiled gently when she realized that he had probably figured that they were safe before letting his guard down and allowing himself to fall into such a deep sleep. But she was slightly surprised that he'd waited with her while she healed.

"I'm glad you're getting some rest," she whispered, "Lord knows you need it,"

She knew that he hadn't been doing well at Hellsing during his unwilling stay there. He hadn't had much sleep and barely ate anything, so it was a wonder he was still in fighting condition. Clearly, he was prepared for such trying times, but it was still hard for her to watch. It was fairly clear that he'd taken the brunt of this entire situation and yet, she hadn't heard him complain at all. Sure he, like everyone else, had griped a bit at having to stay within enemy territory, but he'd really taken it pretty well.

Wynter lay back down and curled into a ball, snuggling into the familiar scent of her bed. Well, coffin more or less. If she closed the lid, that's what it would become. But it made a dreadful squeaking noise when moved, and she didn't want to wake him, so she left it alone.

Gradually, however, she sensed him beginning to awaken. Her eyes opened, blazing in the darkness as he stirred slowly. He raised his head and looked around, seemingly remembering where he was. He rubbed his eyes wearily and then searched around for his glasses, finally spotting them on the floor where they'd fallen. Wynter briefly wondered why he even needed glasses if he was this so-called divine weapon. He reached down and picked them up, putting them on and adjusting them as needed. He sighed and sat up straight. Then, he turned to look at her and reflexively jumped slightly when he saw her eyes were open and she'd changed positions. She smiled faintly, "Good evening," she greeted.

"Wynter...ye're awake!" he exclaimed, turning around fully to face her. For an instant, she saw what looked like relief on his face, but it quickly passed, "Sae hoo long have ye been up?" he asked. She chuckled at his change in demeanor, "About an hour or so," she replied. His face darkened, "Sae why did'nae you tell meh?" he snapped.

"You were sleeping so soundly, I felt it'd be a shame to wake you," she said, "You must be exhausted. Besides, I'm fine; I'm almost healed,"

"Ah see. Sae tell meh, Wynter, why did ye pull ae foolish stunt like tha'?"

Wynter looked away, eyes narrowing, "I'm not really sure. I was about to fly off like you told me, but then I looked back. You'd been completely paralyzed by Mireille. I don't know, but I got the strange feeling like if I left you there, I'd never see you again, so I dove. That's really the last thing I remember,"

"Ae sorry excuse if ye ask meh,"

"Well, no one asked you. And it's no excuse. I never do anything for no reason. I suppose I must have had some reason in mind. Eh, I'll remember it eventually,"

She attempted to sit up, visibly winced and fell back down, "Ow, okay, dumb idea, still healing. Damn it, that sword hurt! That scar won't ever go away!"

She bared her fangs in anger as she glared upward. Anderson frowned, "Dae they ever fade?" he asked out of sheer curiosity. Most of the vampires he stabbed died soon after, so he never really knew if silver-inflicted scars healed completely. She sighed, "No, they really don't. They heal, but they never fade," she said, turning over to face away from him, "That's one reason vampires avoid human relationships. Our scar-covered bodies would terrify human partners, alerting them to our true identities," she said wryly.

"What aboot that dress ye always wear when ye gae oot?" he asked in reference to her usual street clothes with the thin shoulder straps.

"It's a convenient human invention called cover-up. Works well, even with my pale skin tone," she said, "But it's such a pain to use," she moaned in irritation as she tugged on her hair. She chuckled suddenly and twisted her head around to look at him, "This is probably the dumbest conversation we've had yet," she said bemusedly, "It's kind of like the passing threat of death has made us both a little stupid for the time being,"

"What?"

"Well, acting stupid's a luxury most people don't get to indulge in these days. It's kind of nice to have a pointless conversation once in a while," she said, turning back to the wall.

"If ye were ae human girl, it'd hardly be pointless," he remarked.

"This is very true, but I'm not a human girl. If I were, I'd be dead,"

She had a point there. But then again, he'd walked right into that one.

She hummed, deep in thought. Suddenly the air became tense, "Hey," she mumbled, "How long was I asleep?"

"Ah'd say aboot ae day, maybe two,"

"I see. And...were you here the whole time?"

"Faur the most part, yeah,"

"Why?"

He faltered. He hadn't really thought of a reason, other than that he took responsibility for what happened to her and...well, he'd been genuinely worried for her.

"I came close to dying," she said blandly, "If I had, what would you have done?"

This question was said as she turned back over to look up at him curiously. Was she testing him? Did she suspect what he'd only just figured out completely for himself? No, she couldn't. He'd hidden it well, he was sure of it. Actually, what would she do if she _did_ suspect? He decided to tell her the same thing he'd told her while she slept, "Ah'd have followed ye straight t' Hell an' dragged ye back," he said bluntly. Wynter's eyes widened slightly at this statement and she smiled faintly, "Well, I have to say, Tobias was never that morbidly blunt, nor was he that serious. I can't tell _what_ you think of me anymore," she said, closing her eyes. He just watched her gravely as she fell back into a deep sleep, still recovering. He sighed, _Ah think Ah migh' love ye, Wynter, _he answered to himself with an odd sense of foreboding.

/ooo/

Wynter rested, still healing. Assured that she was going to be fine, Anderson informed the first person he encountered after leaving the sub-levels, Walter, and then wandered outside and sat down on the front steps. It had only been a few days, but it felt like years since he'd last come here. On the horizon, the sun was nothing more than a fading orange and pink streak across a black and green base of the earth. He sighed heavily, strangely depressed. How could this have happened? Things like this weren't supposed to happen to him. He was sure he'd set up a perfect defense. Apparently, God really did have a warped sense of humor.

"Ah, I thought I'd find you here,"

Anderson bristled and scowled angrily. He did _not _want to deal with Alucard right then, his least favorite vampire in the entire region. He didn't bother to look up.

"If I'm not mistaken, you often spend meditative time out here, occasionally joined by Wynter when she's up to it,"

"What's it t' ye?"

"No need for that, Judas Priest. I merely wanted to address something. I'll get straight to the point. Wynter makes her own decisions. How she chooses to live her eternal life is up to her. However, that doesn't mean I have to turn a blind eye to everything that happens,"

Anderson grew slightly disturbed. Alucard was being frightfully serious. He had yet to encounter him like this.

"What are ye getting at?" he asked.

"Just this; I don't care if Wynter chooses to get involved with you, or if you reciprocate this. However, if you should do anything to harm Wynter in any way, you _will _suffer for it. Consider that a promise. Good night," he said, striding off with his hands in his pockets. Anderson stared after him, bewildered and slightly horrified.

How the hell did _he _know about it!

/ooo/

Anderson decided to flip through the books on Romania that Wynter had purchased several days before. However, before he could even begin reading, he heard a door down the hall from him open with a sharp squeal, and then a resounding thud as something heavy toppled to the floor.

"_Damn it! Seras! Enough with the junk in the hallway!" Wynter shrieked. _

_ "I didn't do that!" _

_ "Then who did? Peter Rabbit? That's your crate, isn't it?" _

_ "It's not mine and I'm not moving it!" _

Anderson sighed and shook his head as the argument blew way out of proportion. He knew that a minor clash between vampiric siblings was imminent unless he stepped in. Besides, it was a severely unfair fight. Wynter was drastically more powerful than Seras. Alucard was their sire; he was the one supposed to be keeping squabbles like this from happening in the first place. A fine parental figure he was.

He stepped outside to find them both locked in a rather amusing combat. Seras had a grip on Wynter's long hair while Wynter was flailing to get away without relying on her vampiric strength at the same time as putting Seras in a rather useless choke-hold. Neither one noticed him as he strode forward and decisively grabbed Wynter's arm, yanking her to her feet and shoving Seras back before stepping between them, "A'right, what's a' this, noo?" he asked as calmly as he could manage, "Ye're sisters, righ? What're ye at each other's throats, faur?"

"The usual," Wynter answered nonchalantly, "Actually, now that I think about it, this is our first real fight, Seras,"

"Hey, you're right. We've always gotten along real well before,"

"Yeah, you've got a point. Hey, sorry about freaking out; I'm just sick of tripping over everything in the hallway whether it's yours or not,"

"I should stop leaving things out here anyhow. Will you help me get this stuff into my room?" Seras asked. Wynter pulled her arm away from Anderson and, calmly ignoring him, moved to help Seras lift the two boxes up out of the way, "With pleasure," she said cheerfully. Anderson watched them disappear down the corridor, chattering about this and that and the other thing as they went. When their voices faded from hearing range, he sighed heavily and groaned, "Why can't breaking up fights between the kids be tha' easy?"

/ooo/

Tensions were running high at Hellsing. Since Wynter's recovery, sightings of the twins had been reported all over England, but so far, not a single new attack had been discovered. Integra couldn't understand why they hadn't returned to the Vatican, but both Wynter and Alucard soon grew jittery at the prospect of battle. Wynter spent most every night outside, watching and waiting.

Everyone could sense that things were about to change.

On a day when that feeling grew particularly strong, Wynter donned her street clothes and wrapped her shawl about her shoulders as she headed toward the front door. She hadn't quite reached it however when she felt that familiar dark essence approaching. She sighed, "Good evening, master," she greeted coolly as Alucard stepped out from the shadows. He offered no greeting, only, "Wynter, I'd like a word with you,"

He requested a place where they might speak in private, even though he could have easily just not cared about the situation at hand and spoken his mind without a thought. Wynter decided to forgo her trip outside and led him back to her room, locking the door behind them. She turned, removing her hat as he sat down at the table, watching her, "So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked as she began to change back into her regular clothes. It irked her a little that he didn't bother to look away, but she paid him no mind, figuring that it was his problem. For only a second, the upper section of her chest was exposed, revealing, amidst many others, the ugly new scar running up her body. Alucard frowned at the sight of it, "Was it worth it?" he asked out of the blue. Wynter pulled her long-sleeved black shirt over her head, hiding her scar-ridden form and flipped her hair from inside it, "Was what worth it?"

"That scar you carry," he said ponderously, "Will forever serve as a reminder to you of how you foolishly risked your life to save the paladin's. You know as well as I that scars given by weapons made specifically for killing us will never fade like those given by human trinkets. Was it worth it?"

Wynter finished dressing, folding her other clothes up and setting them on her bed as she brushed her hair out, moving to sit down across from him, "I suppose it was," she said, "After all, it was my choice,"

"Be that as it may, you've only allowed the inevitable to continue as a threat,"

"By inevitable, you mean Anderson's desire to take my life?" Wynter asked, "Look, I owed him a debt and I intend to keep it. He's requested a duel in which I fight for my life. If I should lose, I've agreed to let him kill me. It seems to be the only thing driving him nowadays," she said with a somewhat thoughtful glaze in her eyes, "But then, I hardly know him, now don't I?"

"He's in love with you, you know," Alucard said nonchalantly. As expected, Wynter didn't flinch...almost. Her hand twitched and her eyes flickered ever so slightly.

"Hm...really? I hadn't noticed," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me, Wynter," Alucard growled, "It's impossible for you to hide things from me. I know that you are in love with him, as well, but that you've been hiding it rather skillfully. I must say, this is a rather interesting development,"

"It wasn't supposed to happen," Wynter answered, "This is the last thing anyone needs, not to mention the fact that it's impossible, so I've buried it,"

"Not deeply enough," Alucard smirked, "Otherwise I wouldn't have found it. You're just like me, Wynter. You have a fatal attraction to the humans and twice now have you allowed yourself to feel love for a human. The first time ended in bitter tragedy when he died in your arms defending you from hunters. Who knows how this second time will end?"

"No one knows, no one ever will know. There's nothing there," Wynter snarled, clenching her fists angrily, " You're creating phantoms where there are none, master. I don't love him...I..."

"Can't? Shouldn't?"

Wynter sighed in defeat at his words. Alucard chuckled, "I'm hardly one to offer advice, Wynter, especially given how my own previous encounters have ended," he said mirthfully. Wynter glared at him, "Like I'd ever go to _you_ for advice. Believe it or not, the time in which I practically worshiped you has passed, you freak of nature" she snapped, "I'll just ignore it, wait a few hundred years and..." she trailed off, mumbling.

"So you'll run away like a scared coward?" Alucard taunted, undaunted by her coldness, " You do realize that you aren't the only one struggling with your own emotions,"

Wynter understood. Unfortunately, Alucard felt the need to go into useless details; "He's in conflict upon whether or not to truly take your life. It's my own belief that he's staked his claim on your life in an attempt to keep you for himself. This way, he can bide his time before he really does kill you without having to worry that someone else will steal the opportunity away,"

"Do you have any idea how morose you sound right now?" Wynter grumbled.

"Ah, a delightful added bonus,"

Wynter groaned, "You're impossible," she sighed, "In any case, like I keep saying, even if...even if there were something, there's no way it could work,"

"Of course there is," he said darkly, "Simply turn him into one of us. Then everything suddenly falls into place,"

"No way in Hell. There are many reasons why that's a ridiculous concept, but the main one is that I refuse to be the dam to another fledgling. I won't do it," she whispered, "Never..."

Alucard studied her carefully, her faraway gaze and tilted face reminding him so much of Bianca that for the first time in years, he felt his heart grow sick. He sighed heavily, "Wynter, would you like to know a little secret?" he asked. She didn't look up, but she blinked slowly. He took that as a positive response; "I think you'd probably be interested in hearing the secret behind your name,"

"What do you mean? I was named for the last season I spent as a human, right?"

Here, he grew strangely melancholy. He got to his feet and moved around to stand before her. To her surprise, he reached out and placed a hand on her head, lightly stroking the side of her face in an almost fatherly manner. She just watched his eyes curiously, searching for any sign of his thoughts and finding none. Alucard tilted her head up slightly, his hand coming to rest against her face, "I wanted to name you for someone important I lost soon after meeting her. However, I figured that the situation granted this whimsical wish inappropriate. So, I named you after someone _else_ who was highly important to me, and whom I also lost,"

Wynter frowned, "So what, I was named after a former lover or something?" she grumbled. Alucard pulled his hand away and turned toward the door, "Not quite, Wynter. You were given the name of a small child whose existence the world eagerly forgot,"

He warped through the wall without looking back, vanishing from sight into his own chamber adjacent hers. Wynter stared after him in confusion and then, the memories of their first talk together after a year apart flooded back into her mind. Suddenly, she felt incredibly guilty for being so cold to him. She'd never seen any other side of him than what could be described as sadistic and cruel. Now, he'd allowed her to see the small humanity he still retained in the form of a concerned parental figure trying to comfort her in his own way. She knew she wouldn't likely see that side again for a long time, if ever. She remembered what he'd told her that night and laid her head down on the table, realizing the tiny legacy she hadn't known she harbored until this very moment.

/ooo/

It was clear that things had changed for everyone. However, the change was only directly noticed by a small handful of people. Somehow, these people could tell that time was quickly running out. Anderson among them, he knew that soon, everything would be decided, whether they liked it or not. He had a decision to make as well, he realized as he turned the page of the book. Could he really kill Wynter, now? If after they solved all of this and Wynter agreed to fight him as he'd requested, was he capable of killing her anymore? If he killed her, he would have completed his goal and could move on to the next one. But that would also mean losing her forever. If he failed to strike, she'd promised that she'd kill him and he'd end up risking everything with even the tiniest ounce of hesitation. Admitting even to himself that he had fallen in love with a vampire was frustrating enough. Things like this just weren't supposed to happen. Yet somehow, they did. The one thing he was certain of, was that no matter what happened in the future, whether or not he could ever learn to accept this, no one, repeat _no one_ could be allowed to discover it. He felt torn. A part of him wanted to just kill her and end the whole problem simply and easily. But another part argued against this, trying to defend her from his own instincts. Ever since a vampire had ruined his life in Romania, turning him into what he was in the present day, he'd harbored a fierce hatred for them and this fueled his anger during fights. Sure, he couldn't imagine any other life, now, but that hardly mattered.

Now that he was on the subject, he allowed himself to wish, just briefly, that Wynter had been human. If she were human, this wouldn't be as wrong as it was. There were other problems that would crop up, but nothing resulting in her death. But then again, Wynter had been born in a totally different era. As a French noble living in the 18th century, she said she'd suffered all her life from an unknown illness that would have killed her not four months after she supposedly met Alucard, then someone else altogether. If she'd remained human, she would have died within the year anyway and they'd never have met.

He shook his head. He was dwelling on things that didn't even matter. The two things that did matter were freeing Maxwell from Marku and...fulfilling the agreed upon fight against Wynter. He sighed heavily, "God, why did ye dae this t' meh?" he muttered hopelessly.

/ooo/

The atmosphere was tense. Everyone could feel the threat of war looming over them. Despite all this, life goes on and for certain people, boredom is a constant enemy.

Wynter tugged her shawl across her shoulders and groaned, "It's so hot," she whined, "Honestly, why do you need to do this, now?"

Anderson glanced at her in bafflement, "It's no' tha' hot oot, Wynter," he pointed out.

"You don't have the kind of complexion I do. Besides all that, I'm a vampire; I detest sunlight. You probably enjoy it, seeing how you live in Rome,"

"That's more or less true," he said, "But Ah come from cooler regions, sae Ah'm no' o'erly fond o' hot weather,"

"Your accent is heavily Scottish. Is that where you're from?" Wynter asked, peering up at him from beneath the rim of her hat.

"Ah dinnae knoo where Ah was born, but Ah lived faur ae time in Glasgow," he answered. Something in his voice suggested he didn't wish to speak of his past, so Wynter dropped the subject. Instead, she tugged her arms inside her shawl and shuddered, "Ugh, it's still hot,"

Anderson had finished the other books except for the historical account of Romanian history. For some reason, he was a little afraid to go through that one. So in the meantime, both to quell the uneasiness and the boredom, he opted to go into town for a new book. The truth was, he really liked the bookstore here. The one back home just couldn't compare.

In reality, with the threat of the twins seemingly having dissipated since their attack on him and Wynter, he probably could have made the trip alone. But the truth was that he enjoyed these little excursions into town and had asked her along. Wynter had agreed to go, but now seemed to be regretting it what with the sun beating down on her. Ordinarily, her complaints might have bothered him, but he understood in this case. She probably was suffering in this heat.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something," she said.

"What?"

"When you go back home, what do you plan to do?"

He thought about it briefly, "Ah'll probably gae back t' the orphanage. Ah have t' say, Ah really miss those kids,"

"I'll bet you do. From what I saw, you're like a father to them," Wynter said, "They sure look up to you, although I wish you'd keep your vampiric slaying teachings limited to trainees," she grumbled.

"Ah suppose letting them torment ye like tha' was ae little o'er the line," he said with a smirk.

"A little? And you were watching the whole time, jerk," she snapped, "But Maria was nice. I was rather surprised by her. She clearly knew what I was when she braved that typhoon to bring me the umbrella, but she went anyway. Why is that?"

"Ah tried t' warn her, but she would'nae listen. She's perfectly suited t' being ae nun because she feels pity faur everything, deid or alive," he said wryly.

"Apparently, she's not the only one with a soft heart," Wynter mused, "You're much nicer to me these days,"

He appeared highly uncomfortable, "Well, Ah'm the one who oowes ye, noo," he muttered.

"That's partially true, although I didn't do what I did for that reason. Besides, I still agree to fight you and should I lose, allow you to take my life," she said easily.

"Hoo can ye accept tha' sae calmly?" he asked.

"Because I've already lived far longer than any human should ever live," Wynter answered, staring off ahead distantly, "And I don't think I could bring myself to commit suicide. I think someone would have to do it for me in order for me to go peacefully to whatever awaits this life. You know, perhaps that's why master is always fighting; maybe he's sick of living, but can't bear to kill himself. Putting it that way, it doesn't seem so bad,"

She glanced up at him, smiling, "So with that in mind, I think I'd be happy if you were the one to kill me," she said. She faced forward again, watching the cars drive by on the street. Anderson just stared ahead, lost in thought.

"Wynter," he mumbled, "Tell meh honestly; what's it like t' be ae vampire?"

"You curious or something?"

"Aye," he said ponderously, "Oon'y faur the sake o' profession, hooever,"

"I see," Wynter answered, gazing up at the sky, "To be a vampire is the original double-edged sword. You live forever, or for as much blood as you drink that is. We aren't immortal; we absorb the human lifespan through the blood into our bodies. If a person's heart is pre-programmed to beat for eighty years, and is then attacked at age twenty, we absorb sixty years' worth of life. If we let this hypothetical store run out, we go into torpor. If we don't replenish our blood, we eventually crumble into dust and die. I understand both the curse and the importance of feeding, though I dislike it. Tell me, did you ever wonder how we feed our vampires in the cabal?"

"Ah have wondered o'er that," he said, genuinely curious.

"We hold blood drives, telling volunteers that the blood is going to anemic people who can't afford hospitalization, or something along those lines. In this manner, we acquire our food without actually lying to our donors. Most of the cabal's vampires dislike feeding, so they don't mind at all that the blood isn't fresh. We have scattered humans working for us who help us. As much as I trust you, I cannot tell you anything further,"

She sighed, "When I hear people speak of how great it would be to become a vampire, I just want to throttle them. Some of the humans working for us share in that ludicrous wish, but others share my beliefs. It's just infuriating,"

All of a sudden, the air around them grew dark. Wynter glanced up curiously and sighed as a mass of black clouds began to roll in, "That figures," she said. They moved to stand beneath the awning of a building a few meters away as the rain began to tumble from the sky in a flash deluge. Anderson noted curiously that Wynter's angry aura was so strong at the moment that humans actually seeking that awning for shelter turned tail and bolted when they got close.

"Are ye doing tha' on purpose?" he asked.

"Doing what?"

"Never mind," he said, looking back out to the street. Wynter was irritated, but she wasn't controlling her aura. It was just something she did naturally.

"I had an odd dream yesterday," she said out of the blue.

"Nothing odd aboot that," he said, "Ah have dreams, too,"

"This was different. I think I found another memory of who I used to be,"

He froze slightly. From what she'd been saying now and again, she was apparently regaining more and more memories in this fashion, dreaming through her subconscious.

"What was it aboot?" he asked carefully.

"I was standing and talking to someone, though I can't place his face. We were both angry. I feel a sharp pain somewhere and I'm on the floor. He's standing above me, and although I feel angry enough to tear him to shreds, I realize that I'm powerless to do anything. I think he was my betrothed who died. Louis had mentioned that he was abusive toward me whenever we were alone. I recall in this dream being so incredibly angry with him that I was ready to rip him to pieces for daring to treat me like that. But being human, that was pretty much impossible at the time,"

"Sae what noo?" he asked, "If he were still aroond, what would happen?"

Wynter glanced up at him curiously. He stared out into the downpour, watching the last few London civilians dashing for cover wherever they could. She tried to guess the motive behind such a question. But his face was expressionless, his eyes unreadable. She turned back toward the street, "I honestly couldn't tell you. I barely remember him and I don't know his name anymore. Even if he'd lived, we wouldn't have met again and my illness would surely have killed me. But if he lived to see me become this, I can't say what I would have done, even if he'd tried to assert dominance once again. Of course, he wouldn't get too far," she said lightly. She sighed, "There are times when I'm grateful for my amnesia, but there are other times when it becomes a severe hindrance. Humans asking me what my favorite food is for example and being unable to even recall a fake memory. When questions like that come up, I've become quite good at switching topics,"

"Sae what would yer answer be?"

"Ack! Oh jeez, I completely forgot! I'm gonna be late! Do you know what time it is?" she asked in a panicked frenzy, suddenly calming herself in an instant as she watched for his reaction.

She _was_ good. If she hadn't just told him her strategy, he'd likely had fallen for that. Any normal human would have been thrown off track for sure.

Wynter folded her legs beneath her as she sat down on the pavement with a sigh, "It doesn't look like it's going to stop soon," she muttered.

"It's no' that bad. We could make it back," he pointed out, glancing up at the sky.

"Yeah, not bad for you. But with me, there's a slight problem, no, two slight problems, actually, one of which is a good deal more significant than the other,"

"What's that?"

"I like rain better than the ocean, but it irritates my skin. That's the big reason and I prefer to avoid it,"

"Sae what's the other reason?"

"I'm a girl in a white dress. You said yourself I need to show more modesty, despite how wrong you were at my lack thereof. Well, this should be proof enough,"

She had a point there. That seemed to be happening a lot these days.

A little girl ran past them in a bright pink raincoat and boots with her mother hurrying after her holding tightly to the umbrella; "Wait up, Anna! I said wait!"

Wynter watched them go, "Hm. That must be nice to run around in the rain without a care," she mumbled, "Being a kid must have been interesting,"

"Kind o' sad if ye cannae remember yer oon childhood," he said.

"Can't be helped. What about you? Can you remember yours?"

"...Aye, but Ah dinnae care t',"

"Rough?"

"...Sort o'," he said somewhat hesitantly, "Though Ah'd rather no' speak o' it,"

"I understand," Wynter said quietly. She did, too. While she couldn't remember her youth, her days in the facility were equivalent to abuse stories she'd heard of human children enduring. It was enough.

He was about to say something in reply when—

"Mother!"

Wynter had only enough time to look up in alarm before a large white streak bounded into her, sending her flying several feet back on the ground. Anderson whirled, reaching for a weapon until he saw that there really wasn't any danger to get worked up about. It was a young teenage boy hugging the daylights out of Wynter whom he'd inadvertently pinned to the ground, "Mother! It _is_ you! I thought that was you! I missed you!"

"Nice to see you too, Simon, now get the hell off me," Wynter snarled. She shoved him aside and sat up, rubbing her bruised shoulder. Simon crouched dog-like on the sidewalk, beaming at Wynter, "You're back, you're back, you're back to England!" he chimed happily.

"How'd you know I'd gone?" she asked.

"Marjorie,"

"I should've known," she muttered, "Wait, what are you doing in London?" she asked as an expression of fury and horror lined her face.

"I borrowed some money from Marjorie to buy a ticket out here," he said.

"Now tell me this; does Marjorie _know_ you borrowed the money?"

"I left a note on the counter,"

Anderson watched in bewilderment as Wynter snatched Simon by the arm and proceeded to drag him back toward the train station, enduring both the rain and her temper as she stalked off with her adoptive son in tow, "I'll see you later," she called back, "I have to deal with something,"  
"Mother, what did I do? What's wrong? Are you mad? What did I do?" Simon continued to exclaim as she dragged him off. Still stunned by this...er, random turn of events, Anderson remained where he was, partly because the rain was coming down harder than ever and partly because he was trying to sort that whole thing out. So that was apparently Simon, the child-like vampire she'd spoken of. Anderson hadn't expected that. Simon looked around seventeen or eighteen years of age, but acted about seven or eight years old. Wynter had mentioned that his trauma had caused his mind to regress to that of a child. If Arakawa's treatment had been that bad, then Anderson felt genuine pity for Wynter and her group. But he'd sooner commit suicide again than tell her that. Knowing her like he did, she'd likely take offense and attack him for it.

A short while later, he heard slow footsteps off to his left and turned. As expected, she trudged back limply, sitting back down with a weary sigh as she folded her legs beneath the sopping wet fabric of her dress, "Damn," she hissed, "What a way to end a day. That stupid brat,"

"Sae what exactly was tha' a' aboot?" he asked.

"You got me; I'm just as confused as you are. I called Marjorie after the train left. Apparently, Simon got mad at Marjorie for grounding him because he was filling the donuts with plaster and switching them for the real ones. Obviously, customers complained, Marjorie rightfully blamed Simon, Simon steals almost three-hundred pounds from the register and buys a train ticket for London. Fortunately, he wasn't conned out of his remaining money and Marjorie will at least get the majority of it back when he returns. He put up a fuss and I had to force him onto the train while he screamed at me the whole time, but from that, I've got no idea whatsoever, and now I'm soaked to the bone as a result,"

Once again, she resembled a drowned cat, somehow still exuding the aura of a dignified individual in spite of it. She said nothing more on the matter, however and closed her eyes. He knew she wasn't asleep. Vampires had a difficult time sleeping soundly anywhere they weren't comfortable. It was just in their nature. If they felt they were safe, they were able to sleep. It was only when asleep were they at their most vulnerable because all vampires shared that unfortunate trait of being very heavy sleepers.

However, he was genuinely surprised when he realized that she actually had gone to sleep after a few minutes. He discovered this when he figured he might as well sit down since the rain wasn't looking like it was going to stop anytime soon. He'd simply looked over and noticed that she looked a little less tense than usual and most important of all, that she was breathing. He couldn't believe it! She'd actually gone to sleep right out on the street in the middle of a torrential downpour! How in the world did she feel safe in this kind of situation?

"Wynter?" he said, "Wynter? Are ye really asleep?"

No answer. Her head drooped slightly and she continued to breathe softly, deeply asleep. He wasn't sure why, but she felt safe right then and had allowed herself to drift off. He made a mental note to ask her about that when she awoke. In the meantime, he continued to stare out at the sheet of rain, feeling increasingly bored. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and glared at it for no particular reason. He sighed and moved to set it on the ground when it suddenly began to buzz wildly, the sound of it actually quite irritating. For the briefest second, he glanced at Wynter, wondering if it had woken her up. But then he shook his head, realizing that if she'd actually bothered to fall asleep, then nothing short of a cannon blast would wake her. He looked at the caller ID and his eyes went wide. He immediately answered; "Heinkel?"

"_Father Anderson!_"

He winced at the overly high pitch and sighed, "Yumie," he greeted coolly, "Does Heinkel knoo ye're using her phone?"

"_Don't worry, she doesn't mind. Where are you? What's going on? Can we finally come home already! I'm so incredibly sick of living in the ruins you wouldn't believe it! Argh!_"

"Hoo are ye getting ae signal oot there?" he asked incredulously.

"_We're in Rome right now. We're trying to get back inside the Vatican, but ever since our first attempt, they beefed up security. No way we're getting in now, damn it,_" Yumie hissed. Yeah, Yumiko was definitely asleep.

"What dae ye mean by yer first attempt?" he asked suspiciously.

"_Eh...heh heh, uh, funny story, actually, uh...ahem, Heinkel! Phone for you!_"

Anderson shook his head with a sigh as Yumie literally threw the phone to Heinkel. He knew this because Heinkel apparently missed and the phone clattered to the ground; _"Agh! Yumie, you idiot, vatch your aim! Ugh...Hello?" _

"Heinkel, what was Yumie talking aboot?" Anderson asked wearily.

_"Nothing. It didn't vork anyvay,"_ Heinkel answered in a similar tone, "_Ve've been monitoring the situation in the Vatican. Something seems to be changing,_"

"Like what?"

"_I'm not entirely certain. Maxvell seems to be...calming down. I don't quite understand, __but he's actually sent for us to return. It doesn't strike me as a threat,_"

This concerned Anderson somewhat. Heinkel was sharp and if she sensed no threat, then it had to be relatively safe. But then, Maxwell was sharp too and he'd know all of Heinkel's quirks, as well as how to get around them. He frowned, "Ah wonnae trust it, Heinkel," he warned, "Maxwell has been very unpredictable. Ye doon't knoo what he migh' be up tae,"

"_I'm avare und I'm preparing for it. But at this point, ve have to take some chances. Ve can't do nothing forever. You probably heard ve vere captured?" _

"Ah did. Marcus told meh, before he..." Anderson trailed off, the memory still a hard one to bear. Heinkel hummed, "_I know. Ve tried to save them und Marcus barely escaped. I take it he didn't survive his injuries,_"

"Nae, he did'nae make it," Anderson said, "But Ah'm glad the two o' ye are safe,"

"_Ve managed to escape again after capture. You're not going to believe who aided us,_"

"Who?"

"_A rather large group of vampires from Bristol. Lucas vas about to have us killed vether or not Maxvell knew of it. Before he could do anything, however, they vere suddenly svarmed by the vampires. A small girl vas among them und told us to flee to somevhere safe. It vas the girl from the bakery!_"

Marjorie! Anderson's eyes widened, "Heinkel, hoo long aego was this?"

"_About a veek ago. Ve veren't sure vhat to do, but ve took her advice und returned to the ruins. Ve're there, now und the vampires have vanished,_"

Anderson glanced over at Wynter. He felt that feeling of relief flood his mind as he realized that Wynter must have patched things up with Marjorie. Now that little girl was showing her colors as a true leader. He wasn't sure if Wynter knew what she'd done, but he knew she'd probably want to know. Marjorie had saved two of his most important comrades.

"Heinkel, ye two just stay doon, faur noo," he said, "Ah might knoo what's going on,"

"_Okay. Ve'll do that. Ve'll be here avhile, anyvay. By the vay, vhen do you think you'll be able to return? It's been almost two months, now,_"

"Soon, Ah hope," he said, "This cannae last much longer,"

"_Just be careful, Father,_"

She hung up. Anderson closed the face of the phone and sighed in relief, grateful they were okay. He couldn't believe that the cabal had actually gotten wind of what was going on and had traveled to Rome to save the two of them. It made him stop and wonder if maybe they really were bent on peace with the humans.

Eventually, the rain began to slow and Wynter sensed it, awakening slowly as she sat up from her curled position against the building. She brushed her hair from her eyes and yawned, revealing her fangs, "Evening? I fell asleep, I guess," she mumbled sleepily.

"Aboot time ye came tae," Anderson said wryly.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to fall asleep like that," Wynter said, yawning again.

"Hoo could ye fall asleep ootside?" he exclaimed.

"I always used to sleep outside before I met Sasha. Besides, I know what you're thinking. You're recalling that old rule that a vampire will only sleep when he or she feels they're safe. Well, it just so happens I felt pretty safe right then, so I fell asleep. Got a problem with that?" she asked snidely.

"Why would Ah have ae problem?" he grumbled.

"Hey, it's no big deal," Wynter said, standing up and stretching, "After all, you were here and I knew that you wouldn't let anything happen to me whilst I slept. That's why I felt safe,"

"What?" he exclaimed incredulously. She threw him a knowing look, "Well, you are hell-bent on taking my life, are you not?"

"Dae ye have any idea hoo aggravating ye are?" he demanded to know as he got to his feet.

"Aw, how sweet of you to notice," she chimed sarcastically.

He wanted to throttle her, but knew it wouldn't do a bit of good seeing how she didn't require air. So he settled for shoving her over and walking off as though nothing had happened. Wynter chuckled as she picked herself up, "Touchy as ever, I see. It's refreshing to see that you never change, Mad Priest,"

"Would ye please stop calling meh that?" he muttered irritably.

"I suppose that's fair. You finally stopped calling me 'vampire'. She said, falling in step beside him, "Fine, from this moment onward, I shall refrain from addressing you by that nickname,"

"Much obliged,"

He wanted to tell her what Heinkel had said about the cabal appearing in Rome to assist them. He wasn't sure how they'd found out about it and vaguely wondered if Wynter had provided information. He dared to entertain the notion that they, like Hellsing, had an informant placed within the Vatican. He hoped to God that they didn't. Even in spite of his altering views on vampires, he wasn't sure he could tolerate one in the Vatican.

"Wynter," he said as casually as he could manage, "Are ye in constant knooledge of the cabal's actions and whereaboots?"

Wynter was instantly put on guard at his tone and he noticed. She cleared her throat, "Yes, for the most part," she said stiffly, "Marjorie and I have resolved our opinions over my alliance with you. I hope you realize that _you_ were nearly the cause of my complete ostracism from the cabal," she said curtly.

"No' mah problem,"

"That's awfully cold of you," she grumbled.

"Ye're a' vampires t' meh,"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. In any case, why did you ask?"

Damn she caught on quick. He frowned, "Because while ye were asleep, Ah go' ae call from Heinkel. She and Yumie were able t' escape. It seems tha' ae large group o' vampires from Bristol attacked their captors," he said, "And that Marjorie was with 'em,"

Wynter's eyes widened considerably and she drew a sharp breath, "They went to Rome!" she exclaimed in sheer horror.

"Aye. Ah'd thought ye might be aware," he said, stopping and turning back to her. She was frozen, staring ahead in shock. She blinked a few times and sighed heavily, "If my heart continued to beat, I'm sure I'd have had a heart attack," she choked out, "Those idiots! They have no idea what kind of place that is for vampires!"

"Heinkel did'nae knoo their purpose faur being there. Ah've go' nae clue as t' hoo they'd figured oot what was going on. But they were able t' alloo the two o' them t' escape wi'oot injury,"

"But what about Marjorie? I hope she's okay. She's so frail," Wynter mumbled, chewing her thumbnail in her anxiety.

"She's ae vampire, Wynter; she's fine,"

"She may be a vampire, but she's very fragile," Wynter lashed out.

"She may or may no' be the only one," he mumbled. Wynter frowned, "And what do you mean by that? Are you implying that I'm weak as well?"

"Ye misunderstood meh," he said, "Faur a' appearances, ye doon't present yerself as strong, Wynter. Ah actually find it rather disconcerting how fragile ye yerself seem,"

And with that cryptic statement, he turned and continued back without another word. Wynter stared after him curiously, wondering what he meant.

A/N: It's hot, I'm dizzy. I'm too tired to write much here. -_- Hope you enjoyed and sorry for the long wait.


	27. Twenty Six

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Here's the next installment!

Twenty-Six

When danger strikes, you never expect it to happen to you. You always see it happen to others and think only of how glad you are that it's someone else. However, when fate targets you and people around you, you begin to see just how horribly misinformed you are. You see people around you get hurt while you're powerless to do anything other than watch in horror. You know these types of things may happen to you, but you never know when.

Not until the moment they strike.

For everyone at Hellsing, this strike came in the form of a tremendous shudder passing through the walls and a high-pitched, agonizing scream reverberating through the hallways from the sub-levels. Anderson bolted awake, having finally dropped off to sleep maybe an hour ago. He jumped up and rushed to the door, bringing just one weapon out as he opened it and looked out toward the deeper chambers. The screaming was from Wynter and it sounded like Bianca was trying to take control again. Visibly worried, he hurried out and proceeded quickly into the deeper realms. He wasn't prepared for what he saw.

He found the other vampires currently in Hellsing congregated outside Wynter's door. But it wasn't that so much that surprised him. He was admittedly stunned to see Alucard lying face-down on the floor with his head raggedly severed and lying several feet away. Seras stood with Sasha, both visibly shaken and Sasha looking about ready to throw up. Louis stood opposite them, shaking slightly and casting occasional glances at the door where Wynter's screams of agony could be heard clearly.

"What the hell happened?" Anderson exclaimed.

"We...we don't really know," Seras answered shakily, "Wynter started this...well whatever it is, and Alucard went in to try to calm her down. But then she...she tore his head off!"

Everyone knew that Alucard was just fine and that it took him a few minutes to pull himself together—literally. But they also knew that Alucard was _extremely_ hard to kill. For Wynter to pull it off so easily was terrifying.

Wynter could be heard thrashing about wildly and shrieking in terror and what sounded like pain. What the hell was Bianca doing?

"Ah'll see what this is aboot," Anderson muttered, heading for the door. Louis stretched his arm out in his path, "I highly recommend you staying away from her," he said darkly, "Even I'm afraid of this and I would do anything to help,"

"Ah'm no' the same as ye are, vampire," Anderson snarled, "Ah deal wi' this sort o' thing on ae regular basis,"

Which was a bit of a farfetched lie, considering he'd never seen anything like this before. But while he was loathe to admit it aloud, he wasn't going to allow Bianca to harm Wynter. He carefully opened the door and stepped inside while they all watched with baited breath, seemingly forgetting about Alucard as he drew his head back toward his body.

Wynter had stopped flailing and he spotted her in the corner of her demolished room. Her features were darkened, but her eyes, completely red without a trace of white, blazed furiously from beneath her thick hair. She opened her mouth ominously, revealing her multitudes of shark-like fangs as she let out a rattling hiss. It was fairly clear that something was causing her great pain. Her wings shuddered viciously, sending echoes throughout the narrow catacombs.

"_Stay away_," came the animal-like growl. "_Come closer and I'll tear you apart,_"

"Ye knoo ye could'nae touch meh," he warned, brandishing forth another bayonet as a defense. Wynter stood up and as she did, the darkness surrounding her eddied out into a writhing current, her hair swirling around her in the drafts as she unfurled her wings. However, as she did so, she suddenly let out a horrendous, piercing shriek and sank back to her knees, folding her wings in and curling into a ball, sobbing hysterically, "It hurts! It hurts! My God, it hurts!" she screamed as her body began to convulse erratically. Anderson watched in horror as the black from her wings began to bleed a red aura, mixing with her own dark energy and twisting around her form uncontrollably, causing her to grow more hysterical. Her aura was radiating out of control and even Anderson, long since desensitized to a vampire's aura, was beginning to feel its staggering effect. It forced him back away from her as the room began to bleed in darkness.

"What's happening!" he yelled in alarm, swiping viciously at a tendril of shadow matter as it snaked toward him.

Wynter was unable to answer, screaming shrilly as she started to tear at her wings as if they were the source of the problem. She yanked four or five handfuls of feathers out and then curled back into a ball, shrieking incomprehensible nonsense. Anderson took a step closer to attempt to discover what was causing this, but her aura quickly pushed him back. All the while, Wynter's voice was beginning to grow hoarse as whatever was holding her started to win out.

"Wynter!' he yelled.

"Wynter!"

He turned as Sasha escaped Seras' grip outside the door, rushing into the room and straight into the writhing black aura causing the entire room to pulse sporadically. Sasha staggered and almost fell and Anderson reflexively reached out to stop her as she moved toward Wynter; "Nae, stay back!" he warned, "Her aura will kill ye!"

But Sasha ignored him, stumbling forward toward the vampire. Wynter whirled at the sudden new presence, fangs bared and frighteningly sharp, her jaw extended unnaturally in a way that sent shivers through all seeing it. Her eyes had gone from bright red to a mixture of red and dark violet, giving her normally serene face a demonic glare that caused even Anderson to flinch back. He could honestly say he'd never seen anything like this. As they watched, Wynter's black hair started to bleed white, the black morphing to her face slowly as her eyes went bright violet with flecks of red.

Anderson watched in amazement as Sasha approached cautiously, hands held up limply as she met Wynter's gaze, a highly dangerous act. The vampire was poised to strike, dagger-like fangs visible and prepped to clamp down on Sasha's neck. Clearly terrified, but undeterred, Sasha kept moving forward until she was able to kneel down before Wynter, placing her hands on her shoulders while Wynter continued to snarl wolfishly, body trembling in pure, barely controlled rage. Her pulsing aura struck Sasha suddenly and violently, nearly forcing her back, but Sasha remained rooted in place, staring Wynter dead in the eye.

"Wyn," she said patiently, calmly, "You know what you're doing is stupid. Come on, calm down, now," she said soothingly. Across the room, Anderson remained braced to rush in if Wynter became violent. He didn't know what Sasha was doing, but he knew that—wait.

Something was happening.

The black pigment that had taken over Wynter's skin started to bleed away, the white in her hair fading out to its original black. Her glaring eyes were purged of all demonic violet, slowly replaced by their former gentle ruby, the fierce glow dying away. Her trembling wings ceased moving and fell limp at her sides, her body falling still. She closed her mouth over her shrinking fangs, the points settling back to just her canines. As all of this was happening, her aura gradually began to return to normal, the tension in the air lifting. Anderson found he could breathe more easily, now. He whirled, staring in disbelief at Sasha as Wynter lost consciousness from the strain and fell to her side on the floor. Sasha just stroked her hair slowly, a sad expression lining her face as she gazed down at her friend.

Sensing the danger had passed, Seras and Louis, along with the recently restored Alucard, made their way in. Seras stared fearfully down at her sister, "So is it over?" she asked, deeply shaken. Anderson stored his weapons away, "Aye, Ah believe it is," he said, "But faur hoo long, Ah wonder?"

Alucard shook his head, "Bianca is quite stubborn. I never knew her to exhibit such unusual mood swings," he pointed out, earning stares from everyone.

"You call _that_ a mood swing?" Seras exclaimed.

"She should just go away already," Sasha snapped, "Wynter's suffering enough as it is,"

As she spoke, Wynter stirred slightly, but didn't awaken. She appeared to be dreaming.

Alucard shrugged, "Wynter became Bianca's medium unknowingly and Bianca's power is strong. I'm afraid she's got no choice but to keep fighting. Think of it this way; it'll help her prove to herself how strong she really is,"

Sasha glared at him fiercely, but said nothing in reply. Wynter started moaning in her sleep, her closed eyes shifting rapidly. Whatever she was dreaming about, it wasn't pleasant.

"...Albert..." she mumbled.

Seras blinked in surprise," Albert? Who's that?"

"Albert Du Beaumont, her older brother," Anderson said, much to their surprise, "He survived the slaughter and became ae skilled physician soon after his family's destruction. Hooever, he changed his surname t' Stivaletti t' better blend in while living secretly in Italy,"

"How the heck do _you_ know that?" Seras exclaimed.

"Ah've done research on her family, vampire," he grumbled, "Ah'm tryin' t' dae my job an' kill her. Ah've done research on a' o' ye,"

Seras' jaw dropped in shock and Alucard chuckled mirthfully, "Well how about that? You really are dedicated to your work, Judas Priest," he said.

"That's creepy! Don't go poking through my life, you weirdo!" Seras shrieked.

"Now, now," Alucard said, "All's fair in war, you know. It's not like it gives him an edge,"

"_That's not the point!_"

Wynter moaned, "Ugh...Seras, quit yelling," she muttered. She sat up stiffly and gazed around blearily at everyone watching her, including Alucard who'd finally reattached his head. She frowned, "That was quick," she said, "It usually takes you much longer than that,"

"So you remember what happened this time?" Seras exclaimed. Wynter stared at the floor, "It came on so fast, I had no time to prepare for it," she muttered, "I don't usually fight so hard against Bianca because she really only ever possesses me to speak to someone these days. But this time was different. She was trying to take me somewhere again,"

"Where?" Sasha asked. Wynter's gaze grew frantic, "Where else? To where _he_ is," she said.

"Rome," Anderson interjected gravely. Wynter nodded, "I'm sensing something rather odd," she said, eyes narrowing, "It's strange, but it's similar to the twins. However, it's not them. It's the same essence, but it's different somehow and it's approaching rapidly,"

Alucard frowned suddenly as something clicked in his mind.

"_You'd be wise to let me out!"_

A tremendous rush of wind whipped through the chamber, taking them all by surprise. By this point, Walter and Integra had been summoned by Wynter's screams and had only just appeared in the doorway of her room, unable to speak because of the commotion. They staggered inside and Integra, shielding her eyes, struggled to see what was going on, "What's happening?" she yelled over the din.

"We don't know!" Seras yelled back. All around them, the room seemingly began to vanish and at the same time, Wynter cried out in pain and crumpled over.

Finally, the wind fell to a slow breeze and as everyone opened their eyes, they were astounded to realize that their surroundings were very different.

"Sir Integra," Seras said, looking around, "I don't think we're in England anymore,"

Sasha glared at her, "Really? A time like this and you make a stupid reference like that!"

"It seemed appropriate!"

"No' the time, ye two!" Anderson snapped.

They now appeared to be in some kind of expansive, overgrown field flanked by a dense wooded area with a gray sky overcasting the horizon. Wynter still didn't move, though her eyes were open and glazed, gazing off to the left where rapid hoof-beats could be heard approaching. Out of the trees, a figure on horseback burst into view, trotting to a stop as she stared back the way they'd come, " I—I think we've lost them," she gasped, pushing back the hood of her cloak. Seras gasped, "Wynter!" she exclaimed.

"No," Integra said sternly, "That's not Wynter, Seras,"

"Bianca," Alucard said.

Oddly, their voices didn't seem to distract Bianca as she rode in small, tight circles, scanning the terrain with a grave look on her face. Sitting behind her on the horse, a small figure raised her head, peering about nervously, "Mother, are you sure?" she asked timidly.

"Yes," Bianca answered, "We're safe, now. I'm quite sure," she said, though her face showed the exact opposite.

Seras watched in bewilderment, glancing at Alucard for his reaction. But he just stared blankly, unnervingly serious.

The little girl sitting behind Bianca sighed and sat up fully, unfurling tiny, under-developed white wings from her back to stretch them out in the air, reaching about two feet. Bianca threw her a stern glare, "Saara, fold those back down this instant," she admonished.

"But Mother—"

"Do as you're told Saara,"

Saara sighed, "Yes Mother," she said, folding her wings in delicately. Bianca turned back toward the forest, dark eyes scanning every detail with precision.

"Maybe we should have stayed in Wallaka," Saara suggested.

"That's _Wallachia_, Saara. And we couldn't stay there for very long. Kind as my brother was to us, we would only have brought him misfortune if we'd lingered,"

"I miss him and Lady Adela. I wanna go back!"

"Enough, Saara," Bianca snapped, "Please be silent and let me hear,"

Their horse pawed the ground anxiously, tossing his head in anticipation. Bianca kept him reigned firmly in place as she watched the forest.

Across the way, Seras couldn't tear her eyes away. Something was wrong and they all knew Bianca could sense it.

"Something's coming," Anderson said gravely.

"We should move away," Walter put in. But strangely, they all found that they were unable to move from where they stood, that they could only watch in nervous horror at what they all sensed was about to happen.

"Saara," Bianca said quietly, "I need you to climb down from the horse and hide in the tall grass,"

"Mother?" Saara said questioningly.

"Do it now, Saara," Bianca said, an edge in her voice. Saara's eyes grew wide in fear, but she obeyed, climbing down clumsily and ducking into a large patch of grass that easily shielded her from view. Resting on her stomach, she watched with wide eyes as Bianca urged the horse across the field, away from her daughter's hiding spot.

"Wait," Seras mumbled suddenly, "Does anyone else feel that?"

They all glanced at her curiously. Integra stared down at the ground. A few tiny pebbles at her feet were trembling, as if something were approaching at a rapid pace. Her eyes narrowed and she shifted her gaze forward, toward the trees about twenty meters away from where Bianca was, watching the same patch of trees. Still concealed in the grass, Saara's eyes, wide with fear, never left the form of her mother.

The rumbling grew louder, more pronounced.

"Something's coming," Integra whispered.

"Should we move away?" Sasha asked.

"No," Alucard said suddenly, "It's already too late,"

As he said this, Bianca's horse reared in alarm as the forest erupted forth with a dozen armored figures on horseback, galloping madly into the clearing and quickly surrounding Bianca as she turned her horse around, searching for a path out. Two of the men on horseback charged forward, reaching out and grabbing Bianca, forcefully dragging her from her horse and driving the animal out of her reach, into the fray. Bianca fell to the ground, shifting her momentum cat-like so she landed on her feet, glaring up at her attackers. She let out a furious cry as a ferocious gale tore up around them, ripping the grass from the ground and knocking several men off their horses, who bolted in fear into the trees, leaving their petrified owners behind.

Anderson, Sasha, and the Hellsing company watched in amazement as a bright, ethereal light burst forth from Bianca's body and she unfurled her snow white wings, snapping them open. Her skin seemed to flush a dark indigo as her eyes took on a severe white glow, "Come forth then, intruders," she snarled, "You will not best me a second time!"

"Strong talk, for a woman," one man said, somehow still standing despite the fierce wind.

Everyone watching realized with a pang what they were looking at.

"That—" Integra exclaimed in disbelief, "That's...Maxwell!"

"Nae way," Anderson muttered, shaking his head.

Approaching fearlessly, a man wearing simple thief's garb, a tunic and dark cloak with short silver hair and eerie ice blue eyes, spoke condescendingly to Bianca, as if he knew she could not harm him for some reason. Oddly enough, this man resembled Maxwell so closely, they could have been brothers.

"That must be Marku," Seras said, eyes narrowing darkly.

Bianca spread her wings to their full length, scowling demonically, "It's you," she hissed, "You would follow me to Hell and back? Why do you pursue me so relentlessly?"

" In your fight against us the first time, you slaughtered my brother and left him for the wolves. I cannot have any reminders of you walking this earth," Marku replied coldly, "And your kind is a curse upon humanity. Where is the demon?"

"I know not of what you speak," Bianca spat, "And you shall not leave here alive!"

"How can you hope to harm us?" one of the other men yelled defiantly, "You are a priestess of God; you cannot harm us!"

Bianca closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them again, she shrieked to the sky, calling forth razor winds like invisible blades, rushing forth to collide with the man, slicing him clean in two upon the ground. His terrified comrades backed away, into the taller grass.

"I can no longer call forth the pure power bestowed upon me by the Lord," Bianca said, "And this is because my purity was stolen from me by you filthy swine. I shall see to it that not a one of you leaves this clearing alive!"

"Oh, is that so?" Marku drawled, "Then we shall take the demon with us!"

Bianca felt her breath hitch in her throat as two of the men dragged Saara forth from the grass where she'd been hiding. Anderson could see that they'd clearly found her by accident when Bianca drove them back, or they would have threatened her long before then.

"Mother!" Saara cried. Bianca's eyes widened, "No! Saara! Leave her alone! Release her at once!"

"Submit yourself to surrender," Marku commanded. Bianca's wings twitched and she cast several fervent glances at her daughter, held tightly in the grasp of the thieves with a sharp knife held at her neck. She watched Bianca desperately, pleading for help. Bianca closed her eyes and the wind swirling around them died away, her wings falling against her. Marku smirked, "Take her,"

"No!" Seras yelled as Bianca was surrounded, bound stringently and hurled to the earth. Bianca could only look up helplessly as Saara was then dragged forward and shoved to her knees before her. The man holding her then handed her off to Marku, who brandished the knife at the girl's throat and with a single slash, wrenched the blade up through her neck, severing the head from the tiny body. He threw it to the ground and grinned down at Bianca, who watched helplessly. She let out a scream of anguish and began to struggle fiercely against her bindings.

"Keep her from opening her wings!" Marku commanded. The men rushed forward and pinned Bianca down, forcing her wings shut before she could open them to fight back. Bianca glared up at Marku as he approached, flicking Saara's blood from the blade. He knelt down, grasped one of Bianca's wings and deftly sliced into the joint at the shoulder, ripping it free as Bianca screamed in agony. She continued to struggle as he did the same to the other, staining the white feathers crimson with her blood as he hurled the wings off to the side, motioning his followers back now that she was helpless. She lay limply on the ground, tears streaming from her eyes, still struggling to stand up. Marku grabbed a handful of her hair, wrenching her head up to glare into her eyes, "Now, demonic wench," he hissed, "Join your daughter in Hell!"

He brought his arm up to slash down viciously at her neck. As the blade came down, everyone watching caught sight of Bianca's eyes, which had suddenly gone horrifyingly dark.

"This isn't over," she hissed as the blade struck her neck, ripping through her flesh until her head fell from her body to the ground, stained red with her blood.

When Bianca's body fell to the ground with a sickening thud, everything went very still. Marku backed away, watching it carefully, while his men began to murmur and congratulate their leader on his vengeance.

"Oh my God," Sasha whispered, covering her mouth and turning away.

Integra glanced at Alucard worriedly, wondering how he was taking this revelation of his sister's fate. His expression was unreadable, but she could feel the shock and the fury rolling off of him in waves.

"Wait," Anderson said grimly, "Something's happening,"

They all looked at where Bianca's body lay, as something dark and amorphous slithered from the severed neck of the torso. Marku yelled and backed away and his men eyed the corpse curiously. One of them spotted the thing and darted forward to slash it apart with his rapier. As soon as he touched it, it erupted upwards and enveloped him in its grasp while he shrieked and writhed within its depths. Everyone watched in horror as his body, still slightly visible, was crushed to pieces inside the thing, and slowly devoured.

The black creature twitched spasmodically, taking on a humanoid form as it rose upright, gradually developing a similar structure as that of Bianca. There was a weird squelching sound as a pair of oozing, black wings rose up from its back, feathered loosely and flapping once, slowly. Its eyes opened to mere, reddish pink slits, focusing on Marku, who stared back at it in disbelief, "W-What the hell are you?" he exclaimed, backing away. The thing's mouth opened, revealing row after row of sharp, elongated fangs, "_I am the chain that will drag you into oblivion,_" it hissed in an otherworldly voice. Its eyes snapped open and with a demonic wail, it lunged forward, its wings twisting outward to coil around every man in the clearing before they could escape. They were dragged screaming into the depths of the creature's amorphous body and crushed like insects. Surrounded by the creature, Marku stumbled and fell back, staring up in horror as it bore down on him, face splitting into a devilish grin.

"W-What are you going to do? Who are you!" Marku stammered as it drew increasingly close to him. It laughed, "_ I am the darkness you created when you violated me. I was harbored deep within my very soul, keeper of every sad memory and every painful thought. When you killed my precious child, you released me. Now, I shall bind you. You will never escape me and you will die slowly and painfully," _

But to everyone's astonishment, Marku yelled furiously and lashed out at the creature, making it stumble back and giving himself enough time to escape, leaping to his feet and dashing off into the trees, vanishing from view. The creature stood in the clearing, staring after him with a bland look on its face, "_Hmm...no matter. You are now bound to me. Wherever you go, I go and one day, I will kill you. Mark my words, human," _

It started to laugh as it slowly dissipated into the air, disappearing from sight. The image before them faded from view and was replaced by an eerie, iridescent fog.

"My God," Seras murmured, "No wonder she hates Marku so much,"

Sasha was trembling visibly, staring at the ground with a glazed look in her eyes.

"But...what on earth was that thing?" Seras asked Alucard.

"_That was my curse,_"

Everyone whirled as Wynter, who had been sitting unmoving since the illusion began, got to her feet and moved off a short ways, facing away from them, her wings unfolding slowly behind her.

"Curse?" Walter repeated. Wynter turned around partly, eyes blank, "Yes," Bianca said through her, "Marku ended Saara's life and mine that day. So great was my fury that I cursed him with every ounce of power I had left. That black creature, formed from my hatred of Marku, became the curse that passed itself through human after human for five hundred and twenty-five years. Marku's soul was also passed down, chained to the earth by my power. But while his was human, mine was not," she said bitterly.

"What dae ye mean by that?" Anderson asked.

"His soul could easily be given to a human infant. But mine was different. Mine wasn't human to begin with and was so filled with anger and hatred, that most human infants to whom it was given died within minutes of birth. Their bodies simply couldn't handle the weight of my soul. Each time, Marku lived on, safe from my clutches. The few times my human shell did survive birth, it became weak and frail, constantly ill with some 'unknown illness' that gradually sucked the life out of it, killing it within a few years. I began to fear that I would never be successfully reborn,"

She turned back toward them, "Then, on December 2nd, 1838, over four hundred years after my death, I was drawn into the body of a baby girl, born prematurely to an aristocratic family in Paris, France. The minute I realized what had happened, I lost hope and prepared to be rejected once again by this weak human body. But to my surprise, an hour passed, and then two hours. Then three. Still, I was not rejected. The girl's older brother, at the time, a button-faced little whelp, stood by our side the entire time the doctor attended to us, fighting to save the girl into whose body I'd been born. Four days passed and finally, we were sent home to live with our family. The girl, dubbed a miracle by friends and relatives, was christened Genevieve Du Beaumont at her baptism. Although she grew up fragile and ill for much of the time, she managed to receive a fair education allowed to young ladies of the era. Desperate to survive and to preserve her life, I stayed as far from her soul as I could, while still maintaining my grip on her. I watched her life play out before me, moving to Marseilles with her family, meeting Louis Von Brunswick who fell in love with her, the fevers that had her bedridden for much of her life, the birth of her baby sister, Helene, and the death of her abusive betrothed and meeting her eventual fiance, Jean Mondago. By this time, she was twenty years of age. I truly believed that this time, I would succeed in killing Marku, who currently lived somewhere in France at the time, a friend of her brother's from school. I had only to survive long enough to kill him. Then I could finally move on and leave Genevieve,"

Bianca sighed, folding her arms, "But then, the fevers returned, stronger than ever. My grip was loosening. Genevieve was dying. Somehow, she pulled through and survived the first bout of illness, but I instinctively knew that she would not survive a second time. I prepared once again to be reborn. Then, the unexpected happened. Louis Von Brunswick proposed to Genevieve with his secret plans of saving her by changing her into a vampire. My hopes soared at this, for vampires are nearly indestructible. If she could be turned, she would survive and while I would have to wait a while longer, I would get my revenge in the end. But she turned him down, revealing her engagement to a mortal man. I knew my chances of surviving were going to plummet, so I intervened. I temporarily released my hold on Genevieve and gained control of Louis' mind. I forced him to raise his power against her family and turn Genevieve by force. But somehow, she overwhelmed Louis and escaped, running into another vampire who turned her successfully. My plans had worked anyway, but I knew that Genevieve, once she got her own vengeance against Louis, would likely end her life there from the grief of it all and I would be forced to repeat the cycle. So I took drastic measures to keep this from happening,"

"What do you mean by that?" Integra asked suspiciously. Bianca's eyes flamed, "Simple. I erased her memories of her life as a human. The human to vampire transformation is difficult and I took this opportunity to take away everything, save two. Her burning desire for vengeance to match my own, and her name, something that can never be removed. With my place in her soul secured, I allowed myself to rest for the first time in centuries, going to sleep until I was abruptly awakened last year during Louis' ridiculous holding ritual. The shock sent the vampire, Wynter into rejuvenating sleep while I was awakened prematurely, confused and disoriented. Understandably, I was mortified at allowing myself to sleep for a hundred and fifty years following Genevieve's turning, but I recovered quickly enough to realize that it wasn't time yet, anyway, retreating into the depths of Wynter's mind. Until now, that is,"

She sighed, "So now, you all know the secret of my death. I cannot allow that man to walk free any longer. He can try to run all he likes. Now that I've become a vampire, he won't ever escape me," she said with a leer.

"But...," Sasha mumbled, causing everyone to turn and look at her. Sasha flinched slightly, but squeezed her eyes shut, "Bianca, it's...it's not...it's not his fault!" she yelled.

"What?" Bianca said, glancing at the girl warily. Sasha sighed shakily, "What Marku did was unforgivable," she said, "But it's not Maxwell's fault that he was given Marku's soul. It could have been anyone and yet, it was Maxwell, who just happens to resemble Marku just a little bit. You can't fault Maxwell for something he doesn't even understand himself and is probably struggling against. Bianca, you were once a priestess of God. I heard your story. All you wanted was to retreat peacefully into the mountains with your daughter, regardless of how she was created. You wanted to just forget everything and live out the rest of your life. So why are you doing this now and affecting everyone who has almost no connection to it whatsoever?"

Bianca regarded her blankly, not really seeming to hear her. All around them, the illusion eddied unpredictably and fell apart before them, placing them once again in Wynter's room in the sub-levels. They'd never even left to begin with. Bianca sighed deeply and closed her eyes, allowing Wynter to collapse to the floor, unconscious as she once again released her hold on the vampire.

Everyone just stared at her, immensely shaken by what they'd seen. It was now very easy to understand why Bianca was so angry and bitter. What a horrible way to die.

"Such ae great amoont o' anger," Anderson murmured, "t' chain his soul t' earth in ae ne'er ending cycle o' life and death. Hoo is such ae thing possible?"

"Bianca's power was great," Alucard said across the room, "It seems my suspicions were correct. Her spiritual power faded over time, replaced by black magic. She couldn't have done this otherwise,"

"_You're right, brother,_"

Most everyone in the room whirled in alarm to the door at Bianca's voice. But she wasn't manifesting in Wynter, who was stirring on the floor, trying to lift herself up as she heard it. Her eyes opened and she gazed forward fearfully.

"Bianca," Alucard said, frowning, "So you've gathered enough power, then?"

A swirling funnel of light appeared, spiraling downward and revealing the form of Bianca standing before them, practically a mirror image of Wynter except for the eyes. To everyone's surprise, she was no longer translucent. She appeared completely solid. Her eyes flamed bitterly as she looked around, flexing her tattered wings in and out, "I've put you all through enough," she said, her voice no longer hollow, "It's high time I ended it,"

"You're acting rash, Bianca," Alucard warned, adjusting his glasses. Bianca gazed sadly at him, "I appreciate the warning, however misguided it may be. But I no longer exist on this plane, brother. I can no longer hear you, anymore," she mumbled. She steeled her gaze, "Marku approaches, growing closer as we speak. His medium is with him,"

"Maxwell!" Anderson exclaimed.

"No," Wynter hissed, standing up shakily, "Bianca, listen! You can't kill him!"

"Give me one good reason why I should leave him be," Bianca snapped, fixing a deadened glare on Wynter.

"I can think of about seven right off the bat," Wynter said, "One of the most prominent is that you'd launch the continent into a religious war if you killed the archbishop of Rome! Please Bianca, you have to stop while you can!"

"It's far too late. Wynter, I am grateful to you for providing me with the dark energy I needed. Alexander Anderson, I am grateful to you for providing the spiritual energy I needed. And to everyone in this room, I am grateful to you all for assisting in my awakening. I can now end this long nightmare and finally rest in peace,"

"Bianca!" Wynter cried desperately.

"You carry my wings, Wynter," Bianca said sternly, "They may be black, but they are still my wings, stained with the curse of my hatred that almost took your life. You are the only survivor amidst hundreds of humans I possessed and inadvertently killed over the centuries. I meant no harm to anyone, but it could not be helped. Once Marku is dead and my curse has lifted, your wings will become the bright, beautiful snowy white that they always should have been. You will no longer be a curse. Who knows? You may even perhaps return to being human, your memories restored,"

Wynter faltered with a sharp breath. She'd...become human again? How was that even possible?

Bianca turned, "Marku is here. He knows that this time, I won't perish. It's time I ended it," she said as she dissipated through the wall, much like Alucard often did. Integra's eyes narrowed and she turned back to everyone, "If we allow this to happen, there will be dire consequences," she said.

"Bianca is now so absorbed in her mission to kill Marku that she has been completely blinded to what's right and wrong," Walter stated, "Meaning she can't grasp the concept of religious war that would start if Maxwell is killed on Protestant soil on the estate of the most prominent Protestant family in England,"

Wynter sighed, "Then we've got no choice but to stop her," she said finally.

"How?" Sasha asked. Wynter shrugged, "How else? Bianca's reached a solid enough form now that she can appear on our plane of existence as if she were alive. I doubt that this form will last, however. Therefore, the only way to stop her is to confront her,"

"So who's going to confront her?" Integra asked, eyes narrowing at Wynter.

Wynter's face darkened, "Me," she said.


End file.
